Denial
by WastingYourGum
Summary: AU S2 set after 2x08. Much accompanies Carter back to the Holy Land. How will Robin and the gang cope without him? How will Much adapt to his new life and face the horrors of war again? And how will canon events play out without him? Multiple pairings.
1. Out of the Woods

**A/N:** This is a multi-author collaborative fic starting off from the end of episode 2x08 "Get Carter" and creating an AU where Much goes back with Carter to the Holy Land. The title comes from our complete refusal to accept any character deaths we didn't like in S2 and S3!

It contains both slash and het pairings and there are some graphic sex scenes of both varieties. If slash is not your cup of tea, please read no further and thank you for your time...

The main pairing is Much/Carter. Robin/Marian and Will/Djaq also feature strongly but Guy and Allan have a large part to play in those relationships (and with each other at times)! We also think we may have found a good match for the biggest Little outlaw - remember - _nobody _dies.... ;)

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. If there's something you'd like to see more/less of let us know what it is and we can try to write it!

**Warning label:** Two out of three Saracen healers recommend Denial for their patients who are fed up with canon. The third healer got tied to a tree in the forest.

Give Denial a try - the endings _will _be better here!

* * *

**Chapter One: Out of the Woods**  
by  
**DarkenTwisted**

**----------------  
**

"I could use a good man like you in battle."

Much stared at the fire, disbelieving his ears at the other man's words. He spoke cautiously to keep from offending the knight. "I am not a manservant any more. Robin has given me my freedom." He stood up straight. "I am a free man now."

Carter examined the blond outlaw with amused curiosity. "I know. I don't need a servant. I need a squire and Robin has assured me you would be the best."

"He... he did what?" The former servant's eyes went wide. He couldn't believe Robin would shed him so easily. But then Marian was in the forest now. How quickly their friendship had been laid aside for her love. He felt a dagger in his gut. He felt betrayed. "He told you that!"

Carter put up his palm to stay the aggression. "Easy. He is not sending you away. We were just talking and he mentioned how fine a horseman and servant you were to him." His eyes twinkled, "And how invaluable you are to him now."

Much smiled as he continued to gaze into the fire. "He said I was invaluable?"

"Yes," Carter replied. "I could use someone invaluable back there."

A million thoughts raced through Much's mind. To go back to the place that gave him a thousand nightmares. It made his palms sweat and mouth go dry just to think about it. To go back to the heat and the blood and the ever-constant threat of death and leave Robin outlawed in the forest was unconscionable. But then what did he have here?

Robin was with Marian now, outlawed or not. Much had no one and being outlawed himself, no chance of being anything other than cold, damp, starving and always afraid of being captured and hung by the sheriff.

At least back in the Holy Land he would have the three squares the King's army provided and a fighting chance to get his Bonchurch, that is if he wasn't killed first. And this time to return to Acre as a squire, practically a knight himself! No longer would he have to put up with being treated as a servant and having to take the abuse and leavings of the nobles just to sustain.

It was a hard decision, one that would take time and a lot of thought. He took Carter's extended hand immediately. Carter laughed jovially as he patted the cook's shoulder. "Glad to have you with me, Squire Much. I feel safer already with you at my back." Carter stifled a yawn. "Time for bed. We leave early the morrow, best get some sleep."

"Tomorrow," Much repeated as if in a dream. He stared back into the fire realizing the next day his whole life would change. He wondered how he would break it to Robin that he was leaving him and with a man who only days earlier had been their mortal enemy. He barely slept the entire night and when he did, he dreamed of war.

~~~O~~~

They woke while it was still dark; washed and dressed in silence. Much marvelled at his new companion as he splashed his chin with water and prepared to shave. He rubbed his own stubble and wondered if he should do so as well. His new master assured him his present appearance would be but temporary. Carter promised him a stopover in Portsmouth for a proper bath and change of new clothes before sailing across the channel. "Cannot have my squire looking and dressing like a servant when we go to see the King." The crusader smiled as they dressed.

A jolt of excitement went through the outlaw. To be presented to King Richard as Carter's squire instead of merely tolerated as "Locksley's servant" made him shiver. He grinned shyly at the easy way his new master accepted him. As they dressed in silence, Much took in Carter's well-muscled, pale torso in the firelight and blushed. Everything about the man was perfect.

Carter caught him looking and chuckled warmly at his reddened cheeks. "See something you like my friend?" Much definitely did. The rest of the outlaws were starting to stir and he made off to start the daily chores of getting breakfast together. It would be the last time he did so for the gang. He smiled to himself and decided to hold the answer to that question for later.

Robin lay by the fire alone as he and Marian were still not speaking to each other. He looked so young and vulnerable and it pained the former servant for what he was about to do. Much paused for a few seconds, it would be hard to tell someone you spent nigh five years at the side of at war and more than that growing up, that your path was about to diverge from his. Robin stirred before the former manservant even touched him. "What troubles you my friend?"

Much pouted in the exquisite way that made his upper lip turn into a Saracen bow and Robin knew it was going to be more than just talk of war, "I... I want to leave... with Carter... back to the Holy Land."

Robin said nothing but sized his friend up sadly. He sighed and raised up, curling his arms around his knees as he studied the blond outlaw. "I thought you would."

Much stammered, feeling all composure leaving him, "It's not because of Marian. I like her here... really. It's just that Carter asked me and he wants me to be his squire and I might just have a chance of an audience with King Richard and clearing our names..."

"I hope you have the life with Carter I could not give you, old friend." Robin interrupted his friend's rant with a whisper.

Much stopped and stared round eyed with surprise. What was the outlaw leader thinking? "Robin..."

The former earl put a hand out and reeled in his confused friend, "Everything we do is a choice, Much. You now have a way to fix the life I've broken for you. How can I deny you that?" He sighed as he looked into the pale eyes of the one man who he now knew was truly braver than he could ever be. "All I can say is that I do not ask this of you. You know what we left behind there. To revisit those horrors I would not wish on Gisborne himself, much less my best friend." His eyes glistened with unchecked sadness. "But if you end up fixing both our lives in doing so, I will be honoured to the end of my days that you did so of your own free will."

Much smiled at the closeness of his friend. He once wished Robin could be so much more, but now it pained him to lose even that. He nodded sadly, "I will do this for us, Master."

"And I thank you, Much. Till we meet again, my loyal friend." With those words Robin lightly brushed his lips against those of his former servant. Across the camp Carter witnessed the act of separation and felt a shiver of remorse. What had he just done?

~~~O~~~

Sunrise found him side by side on horseback next to Carter. The knight looked magnificent as the early light glinted off his pale blond hair and in his blue eyes.

Much in his dirty ragged clothes and skullcap felt smaller in comparison. He sat straight in the saddle however, as the gang saw them off. Marian kissed the former manservant on the cheek. "Oh Much, I cannot believe you are leaving."

Much smiled back stifling a tear as he did so, "Look after him, Lady Marian." He then nodded his head in the odd little way that made her giggle. "Keep Robin out of trouble till I return."

Marian laughed softly. "I'll try... if he doesn't kick me out of the forest first." She sobered, "Look out for yourself, Squire Much, and come back home soon." She looked at Robin as he walked up to them.

"You really want to do this?" Robin looked into the eyes of his friend sensing the confusion there.

"I must, Robin. I need to try to make this right. I don't know where I fit in any more and..." He smiled at Carter, "he needs me."

Robin forced a smile on his face even though his heart was on the verge of breaking. "Then fight well my friend," the outlaw winked. "And watch your back."

Much swallowed. "I would stay if you asked me to Robin. I would never leave you if I thought for one minute you needed me." He smiled at Marian. "But you have each other now." He sighed, "You don't need old Much hanging around any more."

Robin smiled and took his hand. "I will always need you, old friend." His eyes glistened as he pulled the other man down till their foreheads touched. "No, you are right. This is for the best. Having you with him while Carter tells the king of Prince John's treachery is a good idea. It will reinforce our sincerity and get us the help we need to defeat Vaizey."

Much was more hurt than relieved. His lip quivered as he spoke and he tried to hide his disappointment with a broad smile. "Then I'm off to save England." He nodded at Carter and straightened in the saddle like a good squire should. "Time to go, Sir?"

Carter nodded at the former Lord, "I will look after him."

"See that you do," Robin replied, with just a hint of malice. "I expect him to be best man at our wedding upon his return."

"If we ever have one!" Marian shot back curtly, still angry over the previous day's events.

"He shall return a proper lord by then, as you will be again. I will clear your good name, Robert Locksley. But first I will visit my brother Thomas's grave to say goodbye to him properly. I reckon I owe him that." Carter shook his horses reins. "We will see to it that King Richard gets your message." With that the two men rode off as the remaining outlaws waved after them.

"I shall miss him," Marian whispered.

Robin joined her as they watched the men ride off in the distance. His former servant was still looking over his shoulder as he rode away. "As will I," he said fondly. He changed the subject to keep from sobbing as his eyes glistened. "You disobeyed me and you kissed Gisborne."

"I saved your life!" Marian added indignantly. "And you tied me up."

"And you could have got us all killed," he parried back playfully.

She looked back at their friend riding away and her tone softened. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to taking orders. But I can learn." She looked up at the man she loved fondly. "I'd like to be part of your gang."

Robin watched as the man who was by his side since the crib shrank away in the distance. Much was once again gone to face the horrors of war that he couldn't and he swallowed a lump. "And I'm not used to you being in the forest... but I'll learn."

Marian smiled, "Truce?"

Robin nodded looking at her fondly in return. "Yeah... truce." The former noble ran forward, easily skipping over boulders. He called after the two riders, "Safe journey my friends!" In the distance, Much waved back at them.

Marian ran up and took the outlaw leader's arm in hers as they waved back. Robin smiled and laced their fingers together. He suddenly frowned in realization at the other outlaws. He exclaimed under upturned eyebrows, "One of us is going to have to learn to cook."


	2. Portsmouth

**Summary**: Much has left Sherwood with Carter to return to the Holy Land as his squire. They stop in Portsmouth to prepare for their journey across the Channel.

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter  
**Rating**: M for slash

* * *

**Chapter Two: Portsmouth**  
by  
**RobinFanatic**

**----------------**

The setting sun bathed Portsmouth's early evening skies with spectacular oranges and pinks as Much and Carter arrived at the inn. Two solid days in the saddle could easily have left the hardiest of men in foul mood -- not to mention foul stench -- but Carter's enthusiasm about their upcoming adventure was contagious. Much felt excited and relished the knight's companionship. He decided that Robin was wrong in his initial assessment of the young noble. He actually _was _able to look back. He talked about the war. It provided common ground for the two men as they began their journey to the East.

"See to the horses, Much," Carter said as he dismounted. He handed Much his reins and headed toward the door of the inn.

Much was anxious to get off the chestnut steed but he felt so stiff that he thought his leg might break if he moved too quickly. "Yes, master," he called as he stretched in the saddle.

Carter turned and smiled, his blue eyes kind. "Much, you need not call me master," he said.

"But I am your squire. It would not be proper--"

"We are not at King Richard's side yet. We'll have time for the formalities when we get to Palestine."

Much slid out of the saddle. "Do you think it's easy for me to slip between squire and friend?" It wouldn't be much different than the relationship he'd had with Robin. Robin never understood how hurt he felt at times. Would Carter? "I would not want to become too familiar with so many weeks of travel ahead."

"We'll talk of that later," Carter replied. "Tomorrow we shall find you new clothes. Tonight, we eat well and soak in a hot bath!"

Much's heart melted. The man certainly knew what would make him happy.

~~~O~~~

The food at the inn was splendid. Much couldn't recall seeing such a feast as Carter had ordered laid out for them in the dining hall. Pork, lamb, and beef. Warm baked breads fresh from the ovens. And wine that warmed his innards almost as much as a bath.

Carter enjoyed their meal but found more pleasure watching his companion eat and listening to him describe every sensation of taste and smell, smells that reminded the outlaw of home, of Locksley Manor, where the cook often shooed him and Robin from the kitchens. Much savoured every morsel of food with a child-like innocence that brought a smile to Carter's face. He wasn't certain how the man managed to eat so much and talk so much at the same time.

When the proprietor informed the men that the bath had been drawn, Much grabbed one last leg of lamb. "Me first!" he exclaimed, darting from the dining room. Carter stared after him, marvelling at the joy he heard in his squire's voice. "Bring the wine!" came a shout from the top of the stairs.

A bath. It had been months since he'd had a real bath in a tub. Much quickly stripped off his well-worn clothes and tossed them into a heap on the old wooden floor. Rubbing his hands together he eyed the steam rising then slowly dipped one foot into the water. "Oh, oh, oh... ah," he sighed as hot water covered one leg then the other and he pressed his body into the bath and soaked his weary bones. He felt tired and every muscle in his body ached but he was determined not to complain to Carter. A squire would hold his tongue, endure the pain.

Much leaned back against the cloth draped in the old wooden tub. He closed his eyes. And suddenly the reality of what he was about to do struck him. He'd left Robin. For what? To return to war? To fight beside Carter and the King in that hot, godforsaken desert where he'd seen far too many men broken, far too many die. The glow of candlelight in the room did nothing to erase the darkness that seeped into his mind. His hands trembled--he heard the Saracen chants, remembering how they'd float over the dunes and across the sands during the night. They'd sound their drums, soft and slow, building to a crescendo that reverberated through the King's camp. The clatter would stop abruptly only to begin all over again.

Much's heart pounded. Tears filled his eyes and he buried his hands in his face. He didn't hear Carter enter the room.

"Much, what is it? What's wrong?"

Startled, Much looked at Carter. He was kneeling by the bath, his eyes filled with compassion and concern. He gently brushed away the tears that fell across Much's cheeks. Much stared at the soldier and all he could think about were the times in the Holy Land he found comfort in Robin's embrace. He closed his eyes as Carter's hand slid behind his neck and pulled him close. Their lips met, the kiss light and tentative, unsure.

Carter felt the heat rise in his belly but he pulled away, his thumb running along Much's stubbled jaw line as the two men searched each other's faces. Carter's eyes were fiery, a desire that Much had not seen in far too long. The outlaw dragged Carter back for another kiss... deeper... longer... and the knight elicited a low moan. All thoughts of Robin fled Much's mind.

Much tugged at Carter's tunic, breaking their kiss just long enough to pull the garment over his head and to the floor. Carter rose from his knees unwilling to let his lips leave Much's again. Reaching for the laces of his breeches, Much ran his hand across Carter's hard flesh before he loosened the ties and helped Carter shed the remainder of his clothing. Carter threw his head back as Much's calloused palm stroked him. His breath caught in his throat. Much clutched at his neck again, lured him back for another kiss, then enticed him into the bath.

Carter straddled the outlaw and ran his hands across his chest. Much closed his eyes as Carter traced circles around his nipples. Lips caressed his face, his neck, his shoulder and Carter shifted his hips until his hardened flesh found Much's. They moved against each other, trying to find a rhythm in the too-confining bath. Carter covered Much's mouth with a bruising kiss then stood, pulling Much up with him. His hands ran down Much's back. He groped his butt with a sense of urgency, desperate to feel their bodies close.

Much's fingers danced down Carter's abs. Carter grabbed his hands, stopping their exploration toward his aching cock. Much threw him a puzzled look, which Carter answered with a passionate kiss. Then he tugged the outlaw out of the bath, led him across the room to the bed, and pulled him into his arms.

~~~O~~~

Much lay awake listening to Carter's soft breathing, feeling his hot breath against his shoulder, his body still pressed close. A tear slid down his cheek. _This was wrong,_ he thought. _We shouldn't have..._ How was he going to tell Carter that they couldn't let this happen again?


	3. The Four Stages

**Summary**: Life goes on as the gang learns to cope without someone they never really thought they would miss. Much has regrets about his decision to go with Carter back to war.

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin/Marian, Carter/Much, Allan, Guy, Will, Djaq

**Rating**: PG for some minor slash

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Four Stages **  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

**----------------**

**Stage One: Anger**

_"Robin... Master, help me!" The smoke from the Saracen fires surrounded him. He could hear his manservant's pitiful cries as he tried furiously to fight his way to him. Every time he shot his arrow or pulled his sword, another enemy fell, getting him closer to his friend. "I'm coming, Much. Keep fighting!"__  
_

_"I'm outnumbered, Master! Hurry... Master!" Words were cut off and a strange gurgling sound reached the archer's ears and filled his heart with dread. The smoke cleared and Much was in his arms. He looked down at his friend as he lay dying; a confused look across the former servant's blood splattered face, "You sent me back Master. Why did you send me back?"_

Robin woke up with a start as his teeth chattered. He glanced at the smouldering embers through sleep-glazed eyes. He turned over and started to call out to his friend. The memories of the previous day came crashing back. Marian turned in her sleep. He stared at the empty bunk and his heart sank.

Kindling. He needed kindling to restart the fire. He remembered that much. Robin got up and set about doing that. He frowned as soon as he started to put on his boots. Like a new friend, his big toe stuck out of the hole in his sock teasingly. For a moment Robin tried to manipulate his sock to cover it but to no avail. He gave up in disgust and put on his boot. It was funny how that never happened when Much was around.

His stomach growled as he tried to restart the dying campfire. He examined the larder; nothing but a stale roll pilfered from the castle kitchen weeks ago that even a rat wouldn't sniff at. It never occurred to him to ask his former manservant how he did what he did day after day, pulling meals out of thin air. He sadly wished he had now.

Marian stirred and stretched. All was forgiven and she was one of the gang now. She rose and looked at the bedroll next to her... empty. She looked where Much's bunk greeted her every morning since she came here to find it had not been slept in, and then she remembered why.

She got up to see her lover kneeling by the smouldering embers unsure what to do next. He had his boot off and was contemplating the hole in his sock. Without being asked, he responded angrily, "He's gone Marian." He looked up at her with tears running down and looked to her like the most lost person in the world, "He's gone and I don't know what to do without him."

The noblewoman went over and put her hand on the outlaw's shoulder. "You'll be fine."

Robin jerked away. "I will not be fine! He gave me warmth, food, companionship and even mended the holes in my socks without asking and what did I do for him? I sent him off to the Holy Land with a total stranger to face certain death! That's what I did!"

"He wanted to go!"

"I ran him off!" Green eyes flashed as the outlaw leader turned away. "I let him leave rather than share his burdens. It was all he asked of me and I couldn't even grant him that."

Marian forced him to look at her, "He left because he loves you and wants to help you." She fixed him in her blue eyes. "You dishonour him by doing this. You must not do this! We will make do, we will go on and we will respect his decision by being here when he returns."

Robin smiled at her words. He sighed as she held him and placed her chin on his shoulder, "How can I forgive myself if he never comes back?"

"Without blinking an eye the truth came, "The same way I forgave myself for you. He will be back, Robin. We must always think that."

Robin grinned at her rationale as he sadly studied the hole in his sock. Marian caught on, her expression a comic mix of pity and amusement. "Lord Robert of Locksley trained for bow from the cradle, led men into battle in Acre but never taught to mend his own socks."

The outlaw gave the lady such a frown she couldn't help but laugh. "I'll fetch Much's darning cotton and needle he left and teach you."

"Teach me? Couldn't you just..."

Marian got up and put her hands on her hips, "I am not your manservant, Lord Locksley. You will learn to do it yourself or get used to staring at your toes!"

* * *

**Stage Two: Denial**

Much got up early and saw to the horses, turning only to watch with guilt as the other man slept. Memories of warm hands and hot lips exploring his most intimate parts the previous night tore at his mind and he tried to force them away. How could he allow himself to do those things and what was he to do now? He groomed the horses and swept the stable, all the while being watched lovingly with soft blue eyes.

"You rose without waking me."

Much was startled at first, then embarrassed. How could he tell Carter the previous night was a mix of wine, homesickness, fear and nothing more? For him to say so would be a lie. It was something more, at least to him. How many times had he wished Robin would hold him tenderly while he cried, take his lips as they quivered in fear and make him feel so alive as he took his pleasure?

Even now he trembled as he saw him, this man, this god, he felt unworthy. "You needed your sleep, Sir. And the horses needed tending. I thought early was best." The curtness of words stung his own ears as he sought anything but the focus of Carter's eyes on him.

The crusader chuckled softly, half buying the excuse. "The horses are fine, and you did a splendid job as expected." He went over and gently put a hand on his new squire's shoulder. The pout of the man's lips, still slightly swollen with the previous night's lust, was so delicious he could have taken him again right there. His only restraint was the world around them, alive with the bustle of commerce. "But now we need to groom the groom," he chided playfully as he fingered a dirty blond, stray lock that escaped Much's cap.

~~~O~~~

The tailor's shop was a sullen but colourful place as Carter gently handled the garments available for their approval. A few coins of silver convinced the tailor to alter those already destined for another client, as the two soldiers had no time for custom work. Carter grinned as Much turned himself over helplessly to the finicky sewer's tape. How many times had he snickered under his breath as Robin fidgeted uncomfortably while being fitted? Now he stood in the archer's place.

Carter couldn't help but laugh out loud at the indignant look on the former servant's face as his inseam was measured. But the insult to his modesty paid off. The new tunic and braies were the softest things the former outlaw ever felt against his skin. He blushed as remembered the night before... well almost.

His new leggings were of the softest leather and only rivaled by his master's. A doublet of the finest white linen replaced his worn but much loved waistcoat. The tailor's alterations to length were completed while they waited. The final task Carter took upon himself.

Three washings turned the outlaw's hair from dirty blond to a shade closer to his new master's and that of King Richard himself. Much nervously stared at the menacing shears Carter borrowed from the tailor. "Are you ready for this?" the knight asked, sensing the apprehension in the other man.

Much swallowed hard and nodded as Carter took the first lock in his fingers. "I am ready, Master."

Snip!

_His mind went elsewhere, a daring escape, a wild run through the woods, childish laughter. Arms caught him from behind as they rolled down a hill together into a pile of leaves. Breaths were caught in gasps as a hand splayed under his tunic and fingers caught in loosened hair as his cap was lost. A stubbled chin caught his shoulder as Robin took in the scent of woods and his former servant's distinct smell. "I love your hair," the outlaw cooed. "Swear to me you'll never cut it." __  
_

_"I'll do no such thing, Master. It is too long and I need to wash it desperately," Much shot back leaning in to the familiar closeness of his friend. _

_Robin fingered a stray lock in fascination, a frown on his face. "I am sorry my friend but I could never let you do that. Better to let such a fine mane grow to your ankles than to take scissors to it." The former lord finished the lament by running his lips up his former servant's neck.__  
_

Much shivered from the memory. A single tear fell before the severed strands hit the floor.

~~~O~~~

"All done!" Carter exclaimed as he handed the squire a silver tray to admire his handiwork.

Another man greeted Much as he stared at his reflection. He fingered the dark, honey blond hair that framed his strong features. It was just short enough to be handsome and though not quite as short as his master's, was definitely the style of a gentleman. "It's..." Words failed him. He looked like a squire. How often had he admired the gentry of Nottingham and even his former master himself and now he couldn't believe his own image. "Thank you." His mouth was dry and his hands shook.

"Thank me later," Carter purred as he leaned into his friend and fingered his jaw line. "I like the beard. You should keep it. It goes well with your new look."

Much became instantly aware of the closeness and felt his face glow. "I shall."

Carter reached for the bundle of rags that were the former outlaw's pitiful clothes. "I guess we should burn these?"

"Wait!" The squire reached into the stack and fished out his beloved cap. It was worn and dirty and frightfully sweat stained, but it was a link to the man he once was. "May I keep it?"

Carter nodded, indulging his friend's sentimentality. "Of course you may. Just don't wear it around the King. You are a squire now and it is a show of respect that you present yourself with your head exposed to him at all times."

Much nodded and tucked the skullcap into his doublet. "I shall wear it only while tending the stables. I promise."

"Then wear it well," Carter mused. He looked at the sun sinking lower on the horizon. "Almost time for supper. Come, Squire Much. Our last night in Portsmouth awaits."

Much smiled at his new friend, master, and the man who was becoming so much more to him with each second. How could loving someone so caring be so wrong? Perhaps he could let himself enjoy the moment and the companionship. Food, wine and a warm bath awaited and then the promise of the evening beyond. Tomorrow would bring back the daemons of war and his fears with them. Tonight he felt newly born and he decided to embrace that feeling and Carter as well.

* * *

**Stage Three: Fear**

The dark castle halls were just too narrow. He couldn't make himself small enough to not be noticed. Allan knew trouble was coming and he couldn't duck out of the way fast enough. Hands curled into the rough black fabric of his doublet and he felt his feet leave the ground as intense, winter blue eyes ensnared his. "I thought I could trust you, Allan!"

The traitor swallowed a lump not knowing what his master was on about. "You can trust me, Gis..."

"That... is Gisborne to you!" Malice was in the lord's eyes. He showed no sign of relenting as his prey's hands scraped against the wall behind them. "My spies near Portsmouth spotted Locksley's manservant, Munch riding with the King's guard Carter..."

"Much."

Guy sneered, "Excuse me?"

Allan regretted the interruption as the other man's fists closed in, cutting off his airway and making his vision go black. He gasped as the black knight softened his grip and the world returned. "Robin's servant. His name is Much."

Gisborne released the poacher, and turned away. "I couldn't care less the outlaw's name. All I care is that he is two days ride away from here with Carter. It could mean that the crusader carried out his plan after all, killed Robin then took his manservant and the sheriff's money." He turned on the traitor again. "I need you to go into the forest and find out." He smoothed the former outlaw's twisted doublet. "I need to see if your old gang is either disbanded or up to it's its old tricks. He leaned in so close to the trickster's face as to make him flush. "Fail me and you'd best stay there." He walked away without another word as Allan rubbed his bruised neck and left to perform his task.

~~~O~~~

The forest welcomed him. It had only been days since he had come to visit Marian, but it felt like years. It was an easy task, find Lady Fitzwalter and find out why Much had left them. He thought he already knew the answer. Watch the poor outlaw for a short while around his former master and it would become obvious to anyone, the man was in love. Much had owed his very existence to the former lord for so long that it became second nature to love him. He knew the manservant would do anything if asked by Robin, even leave his master's side to go off with a stranger back to Hell. Allan was grateful he had no such loyalties.

His thoughts were cut short by a flash through the air and a knife hit the tree just inches from his pointed nose. "Oi! A little too early for target practice innit, Maz?"

His heart sank as he saw the countenance through the trees of the man he regretted deceiving more than the former lord.

"What do you want here, Allan?" Will's pale green eyes blazed with hate and contempt.

The look of surprised joy at seeing his former friend was on his face and gone in an instant. "I came to see Lady Marian."

"Well, she doesn't want to see you," the craftsman stated with an edge as sharp as the hatchet he held. "Now you need to go cos, you know my aim with this is so much broader than it is with a knife and nothing would give me more pleasure than to make your two faces more obvious, traitor!" Will trembled as he spoke. Seeing his former friend again brought back a flood of emotions he though he had dealt with and he just wanted the back-stabber gone.

Allan tried his old charm, expecting nothing. "So the gang is good, right? I heard rumours of Much takin' off with the fancy boy from the Holy Land.

"He goes back to tell the King of your master's treachery at his brother's request," the woodsman spat. "Tell Gisborne his days are numbered, dogsbody! Now go!"

Allan nodded glumly as he walked away from the carpenter. As soon as he was out of earshot he chuckled to himself with relief. That was easier than he thought.

* * *

**Stage Four: Acceptance**

The setting sun captured the soft look in Djaq's liquid brown eyes as she bowed to her god and said her prayers. This time her prayers went beyond the ones for peace in her country and her new homeland but also for the man she called her friend. She already missed Much deeply. She missed his non-stop chats about God, her homeland and the war that raged forever.

She was supplanting the man he should have shared his nightmares with but she was glad for it. The fact that she put his sweet simple soul at ease by letting him ramble made her happy. She only hoped Carter would do the same. "Be well, my friends," she whispered softly as she looked toward her homeland in the east where the two soldiers were headed.

The still voice in her head calmed her and she knew she would see him again. Much was a good man, a just man, and Allah would smile on him because he protected those people who had good souls.

She came down from the hill and walked into camp. Robin sat by the fire, a picture of frustration, as he tried to mend his torn sock. The thread kept knotting and he kept pricking his finger on the needle. "Here let me," she smiled.

The outlaw leader looked up and shook his head. "Marian says I must learn to do this myself." He sighed as he looked around the camp. Lady Fitzwalter was currently in a heated argument with Little John about how to cook rabbit. Will was whittling; lost in his own thoughts because he had no one to mentally spar with to bring them out. "I guess there are a lot of things we have to get used to doing ourselves around here."

The Saracen gently took the darning from her leader, untangled the thread and handed it back to him. She then patiently showed him how to make the neat stitches taught by her father to save men in battle. He smiled as they both completed the task with a final knot.

"No, Robin. We don't have to learn how to do things ourselves. We will learn how to do things together."


	4. Love, Reign O'er Me

**Summary**: Much and Carter are caught in a downpour after they cross the channel from Portsmouth and must take shelter in a vacant barn. Much continues to doubt his decision to stay with Carter, due to his past relationship with Robin.

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much, mentions Robin/Much  
**Rating**: M (for explicit slash)  
**Genre**: slash, angst, romance

* * *

**Chapter Four: Love, Reign O'er Me**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic and DarkenTwisted  
**

-----------------

The rain soaked Much to his very soul as his new doublet darkened to a dirty beige under the incessant torrent. They could go no further as Carter urged their horses over to a barn on the side of the road. It wasn't waterproof and the rain fell almost as much through the holes in the thatch as it did outside, but it was still shelter from the increasing storm.

Carter pulled one of the blankets out of their satchel and spread it in the driest area of the barn. Much stood by the barn door and stared outside, watching lightning illuminate the night skies. He felt Carter's hand slide into his, his heart beating faster as Carter enticed him away from the door. The knight slowly removed Much's wet clothes and then his own and wrapped their bodies in another blanket.

They were silenced by the thunder and rain that reminded them of the sounds of battle. Both men were painfully aware of what they were setting out to do and the horrors that lay before them. Their eyes met and their lips connected. It didn't take long for thoughts and hands to go elsewhere...

Much curled up beside Carter, his head cradled into his shoulder, his body pressed close. Carter ran a hand through his squire's hair. Though it was thoroughly dampened and flattened by the rain, it still felt soft beneath his touch. He'd trimmed a good bit of it off before they'd left Portsmouth but not so much that he wasn't able to wrap his fingers through it slowly and sensuously.

Much's hand strayed to Carter's face. He played a finger across the knight's forehead, down the bridge of his nose, then traced around his lips. Carter tipped Much's chin up, pulled him close until he felt his hot breath against his cheek, then brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. He smiled at his squire then teased his mouth with another kiss.

Much moaned, feeling fire stir in his belly and desperately craving so much more from Carter. The knight must have read his mind. His mouth caressed the squire's passionately, pressing his lips apart as his hand slid over Much's abs toward his aching groin. The physical sensations were here... now... but his mind drifted to days long past. The man before him became someone else though the need was just as insistent, fuelled by fear, pain and desperation. Memories of that passionate night in Acre with Robin that both men ended up regretting made the former servant pull away from Carter.

Carter looked up in confusion. "What did I do?"

Much straightened. "You've done nothing wrong, Master."

"After the past two nights I hardly think you need to refer to me as 'master' when we are in just each others company, Much."

He studied Carter's sad blue eyes. They reminded him of a child not understanding loss but knowing something was gone. "And that is the problem. I cannot separate the two. If I can't do that then what good am I to you as a squire? This was a mistake. I shouldn't have left with you, left the gang. They need me. I'm sorry, I must go back." He scrambled into his clothes before the other man could stop him.

"Now?" Carter struggled to understand Much's apparent distress. There was something more beneath the words he spoke. What had he faced with Robin that would send him into such a panic? As the squire headed out the door in the downpour the knight followed in only his braies. "Much, at least wait till the rain is over!"

The outlaw was in full stride toward the horses that were grazing on the other side of a field of lavender. Lightning flashed in the distance as the rain beat down on his face. He refused to acknowledge the knight so Carter ran after him into the field. Grabbing Much from behind, Carter wrestled with him for a moment until he gained the upper hand, his arms pressed around the man's chest. "I cannot let you do this. Not until I understand what I did wrong. Please don't go."

Much blinked as Carter held him, feeling the rise and fall of his naked chest against his back. "You've done nothing. I can't be with you. I can't love you like this. What good will it do? We'll just have regrets like Robin and I did."

"I am not Robin!" Carter whispered, his voice trembling. "And I have no regrets. That first day I met you, when I said I would have remembered you, this... this is why." He turned the squire around and caught him in a bruising kiss as thunder crashed across the countryside and the scent of lavender was carried on the breeze. He held the former manservant's face in his hands. "I love you, Much, from that first moment till now, you silly, funny, beautiful, foolish man. And if you feel you must go, then so be it, but give me just one final memory of our time together." With that, he ran his hands across the stubble on Much's face then kissed him again. Much cried as he did.

The purple around them swirled like a sea of denial that each wanted desperately to be rescued from. Carter's words were an uttered talisman to Much and he so wanted to believe every one. This was a man who, for some strange reason, loved him and one he could love in return. He kissed back hungrily, greedily, and with all of his soul.

The downpour became a soft, gentle drizzle kissing their faces like soft tears. Much ran his hands down Carter's back and heard the knight sigh so deeply that it sent shivers up his spine. Their kisses deepened as Carter pulled him down to the ground. The knight's strong arms wrapped around Much's body and he rolled on top of his lover, pressing up on his knees so his mouth could taste the other man's neck... shoulders... nipples... stomach... Carter worked loose the laces of his breeches then slid his hands down to Much's hardening flesh. Much reeled at the contact, thrusting his hips toward Carter, grasping at Carter's arse and tugging at his braies. Much pushed Carter onto his back, lifting his hips to remove the only piece of clothing in their way. He hefted his lover's legs onto his shoulders and moistened himself. Carter nodded catching pale blue eyes in his own. He wanted this, oh he so wanted this. Searing heat gave way to pleasant fullness as they matched each other's gentle rhythm.

Much felt the intense warmth of his lover and wanted more. His rhythm increased as Carter urged him with gentle words of love. Then he slowed for a moment to tease the knight with a kiss, smiling mischievously as he pulled him into a roll across the field, crushing the sweet-smelling lavender against their naked backs. Carter found himself on top, gazing down on his lover. He impaled himself again on the other man's lust, watching his expressions of ecstasy as he moved. It didn't take long for them to reach climax, screaming into each others mouths as they came. Out of breath, Carter collapsed beside his lover in the wet grass.

As he usually did, Much was first to break the silence. He gazed over at his lover with a little nod. "Carter, If you wanted me to stay all you had to do was ask."

Carter pushed up on his elbows and chuckled softly as he snapped one of the delicate purple flowers around them. He ran it down his lover's naked chest. "Will you stay with me, Squire Much?" he laughed, leaned over and planted a kiss on Much's lips.

Much studied his Master's eyes with soft focus. He saw his future in them and a lifetime of love. He nodded gently, "I will."

Carter stood up and held his hand out. "Then let's get back to the barn. It's drier and a bit warmer in there."

Much retrieved their wet clothing and tossed Carter his braies, smirking as he rung out his own wet tunic. Memories of the outlaw's camp after such a rainstorm made him pause. "I thought those days were over." He headed toward the barn as Carter followed, watching the man he loved make his way naked through the field of lavender, the imaged etched in his mind.

Carter hurried to catch up to his lover and stopped him, draping his arm over Much's shoulder from behind. He pulled him again and whispered in the squire's ear, "This is all I offer you. No master, no servant, just my heart. Take it, it is yours. From the first time I laid eyes on you, this has always been."


	5. In the Kitchen Without Much

**Summary**: Marian gets a cooking lesson and talks to Little John about Much. This chapter takes place in the afternoon just prior to 2x09, "Lardner's Ring".

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian, Little John, Robin, mentions Will/Djaq, Much  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre**: general

* * *

**Chapter Five: In the Kitchen With(out) Much**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Marian stared over Little John's shoulder. "I don't know, John. It doesn't look quite ready--"

The outlaw glanced back at the lady, hiding a frown. They'd argued over a rabbit the evening before. Had she not recently lost her father and joined the gang in the forest, he would have been less patient. But he would try to hold his tongue. "I thought you said you had little experience cooking over an open fire, milady," he said calmly.

Marian dug a stick into the fire, nearly splattering them both with ash and dirt. "Well, yes--"

John knew the noblewoman had servants when she lived at Knighton Hall. He doubted she had ever prepared her own meals. "And little experience in the kitchen at all?"

Marian shook her head, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. "Not really."

"Then let me tend the meat," he said, carefully removing the stick from her hand.

"I realize I am not much use here in the forest," she replied. The feistiness she often displayed--especially in front of Robin--was absent from her deep blue eyes and she looked like a helpless child. "I do want to help, especially now, with Much gone--"

Little John sighed. "Aye. We did not know all the things he took care of, and without complaint--er, well, with little complaint."

Marian plopped down on the ground next to the man. "I thought he would teach me," she said.

John looked up at her with a surprised look on his face. "Really?"

She glared at the big man, but her eyes twinkled. "What is that in your voice, John? Don't you believe me?"

John couldn't help but chuckle. "Lady Marian, I fear you would have been just as ignorant as the rest of us and let Much carry on as he always did, keeping the larder stocked, making meals from nothing, meals that we could actually eat. I feel bad that I never told him that. I think _we _did little more than complain."

"Surely he knew that was in jest?"

"I hope so, milady." John turned the hen on the spit. "But learn we will, from each other."

She laughed lightly. "Djaq told Robin the same thing last night."

"Well, our cooking might not be near as good as Much's," John said, "but tonight we will eat, and make do, we will."

Marian stared into the flame and rubbed her hands together. "Robin misses him. I've told him he's not to blame for Much's leaving. I just don't know what else to say to him." She glanced sidelong at the big man. "Do you miss him?"

John scoffed, then his eyes grew a bit sad. He sighed heavily. "Him, I liked. I just wish I told the lad more often."

"Is it funny how we cannot tell those we care about how we really feel until they've left us?" She half-smiled. "I was always so jealous of his relationship with Robin when we were children. I was so... hurt... angry... when Robin left for the Holy Land and he took Much with him. And yet, I was relieved that Much was there for him! I don't think I ever told him that because of my stupid jealousy."

John nodded. "He knew. Much might be simple at times, but I think he may have been the wisest of us all." John pointed toward a bag on the ground. "Add some of that spice to our dinner," he told her.

"Much? Wise?" Marian smiled. She sprinkled the sweet-smelling herbs on the hen, leaned close, and took a whiff. "Like that?"

"Good," he nodded. "There were times when Much rubbed the herbs into the meat."

"Rather than sprinkled?" she asked.

"Aye."

"We shall try that next time," she decided. "Oh, if he could hear us talk of him now."

"Good, I think not," John said with a smirk.

Marian laughed. "You are right! Much would never let us forget that."

Robin appeared over the rise. "My friends!" he shouted as he approached the campfire.

"What is it, Robin?" Marian asked.

"Are you two all right?" Robin eyed the bird on the spit then he looked from Little John to Marian. "Where is Will? After last night, I told him we should not leave the two of you alone in the kitchen!"

"We are fine," Little John replied. "Djaq and Will went to look for honey. That will help smooth the last of the coarse bread we have. Perhaps we will have honey enough to trade for more bread in Locksley tomorrow."

"The larder is empty, Robin," Marian said. "I'd like to go on the hunt with you."

"Marian--"

"I want to help," she insisted. "I am good with bow."

Robin pursed his lips and nodded. "That is true." He placed his hand gently atop her shoulder.

"Good."

"Tomorrow we hunt."

"Tomorrow," she replied, slipping her hand over his.


	6. Sweeter Than Honey

**Summary**: Will and Djaq discover more than honey in the forest. This chapter takes place in the afternoon just prior to 2x09, "Lardner's Ring".

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq, Allan (mentions Djaq/Allan, hints of Guy/Allan)  
**Rating**: M (for explicit sex, some violence)  
**Genre**: Het

* * *

**Chapter Six: Sweeter Than Honey**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"Hurry, Will, while the effect of the rain shower earlier has the bees docile."

When Djaq had mentioned looking for honey the carpenter admitted he thought it was a euphemism. He felt ridiculous wearing the crude net over his face and he wondered just what Allan would have said had he seen him. Allan, just the name brought back a wave of confused feelings that made his gut hurt.

Only days ago, next to this very spot, they had their stand off. He was sure he had given the traitor what he wanted in some weird way and didn't like that he had volunteered Much and Carter's whereabouts so readily.

"Will?"

He looked up to see the female outlaw's delicate lithe form as she shimmied up the tree. Her shirt had ridden up exposing the tiniest sliver of olive skin at her waist and his eyes travelled lower of their own volition. He never really noticed his friend the Saracen from that angle before. Doing so now caused his face to immediately redden and another part of his body noticed as well.

"Will Scarlett!"

He shook with a start and looked away. Did she catch him? Would she be angry? "Yes?" he barely croaked out, not making eye contact

"You can hand me the smoker whenever you stop admiring the view," she mused with a smile, making his cheeks glow the shade of his surname.

"Oi! I wasn't... I mean I wouldn't," he sputtered. He then looked up at his friend in defeat and handed her the odd container she had him make that held coals from the morning fire and wet leaves. She gently pressed the bellows and dense smoke came out, calming the insects.

She sighed in satisfaction and reached her bare hand into the hive, extracting the honeycomb. She placed it delicately into the crock tied to her waist. "Thank you, my little friends, may Allah bless you with more soon." She dropped the smoker to Will and proceeded to climb back down the tree.

Before she reached the bottom, she felt strong hands grab her waist as the outlaw carpenter helped her. She smiled shyly as his kind, green eyes swallowed her brown ones. "This will make Little John and Marian's food taste so much better. I used to do this with Much all the time." She smiled sadly at the fond memories. "He so loved honey."

Will couldn't hide the little pang of jealousy that crept up. "You and Much, in the forest, looking for honey?" The slightly quizzical, wide-eyed expression on his face made hers blush.

"Just what are you implying, Will? Much was always a perfect gentleman." She shot him a half-hearted smirk. "The rest of you outlaws could have learned a lot from him. He was kind and warm and loved to talk."

"I'll say!" Will added softly. "He certainly did a lot of that."

Djaq turned serious. "I think it was because he needed to. You are fine in your own head Will, but I know what he faced because I faced it myself. After going through what he and Robin did, you never want to be alone again." She turned and looked into his eyes. "You never want to be left alone again with your own thoughts, so you must talk to anyone who will listen. It's the only way to quiet your mind."

"Robin never talks like Much," Will stated flatly.

"Some men cannot. For Robin the pain goes beyond words." The Saracen healer mused, "That Much can talk about the war is good. I only hope Carter can too. Much will always need someone who can."

Will rubbed her shoulder. "Think that's why Much left him?"

"Only Much knows why he left. But he is going back to help us, all of us, and we must always be grateful to him for doing so, whatever personal choice made him do it."

Will turned her so they faced each other. "And you, do you ever need to talk about it?"

Djaq looked up and for the first time he saw the nightmares that lingered behind her calm expression. "I have my prayers, I have the gang, and I have you Will Scarlett,. That is enough to keep my mind at peace."

He saw love there. Love to chase away the pain of a life lived in war. The constant threat of rape and death at the hands of her captors caused her to deny the woman that she was in Palestine. But here in the forest, with the man she found herself becoming more drawn to every day, she was Safia and when he awkwardly brushed his surprisingly soft lips against hers she found herself greedily kissing back.

Thoughts of honey and war were swept away in the carpenter's arms. He smelled of wood and smoke and need. He rubbed his calloused thumb along her chin and smiled. "Think they will miss us if we stay here awhile?"

She answered with a tinkle of laughter and pulled his arms closer around her. He spread his cloak over the warm still wet, grass and they sat holding each other, kisses getting more intense, hands exploring. Will hesitated as he looked at his unexpected lover, her pupils blown with desire, making her eyes ebony pools of lust It was his first time for this and he was scared.

"You're shaking," she mused as she slid effortlessly on top of him. She removed her top and placed his hand on her breast. Will was at once startled and very aroused.

Djaq helped the young carpenter out of his tunic and pulled him to her. "Don't be scared. I want this my love and I want you." His hands eagerly explored her body. It was so different from his own and yet so natural. He relished the curve of her back as she arched against his thigh. How many lonely nights had he imagined this, let his own hand wander and dealt with the crushing guilt after, now it was her hands on his length and it felt so good.

She reached over and grabbed the jar of rich liquid, still warm from the hive, and let it drizzle down her lover's naked chest. The colour of Djaq's eyes echoed the trail of sticky sweetness. She looked up at her lover and lapped at the golden trail.

He gasped at her hot mouth on him. Hands splayed though her dark hair urging her downward yet slowing her, almost fearful of what was coming. Her delicious lips encircled him and his mind exploded. His own touch never felt so good. That he was doing this with someone so close to him added to the excitement and the remorse.

He flung his arm over his face and let her take him to the edge. She stopped tantalizingly short of oblivion and smiled as she removed his leggings and her own. She mounted him and looked into his eyes; his manhood poised at the opening of her womanhood. "I've never…been…intimate…with a woman before." Will looked up at his friend. "I don't want to take advantage, Djaq. I don't want to hurt you," he stammered sadly.

The Saracen looked down at him in surprise and almost comic embarrassment. "Me neither." She smiled at him as he entered her. "We will both go slow and make sure we don't..." She hissed softly and bit into his shoulder, shivering from the pain as his shaft pierced her maidenhead.

He sighed in awe at the sensation of being so intimately inside another person. Eyes locked and hips moved until they matched rhythm. She reached a finger into the jar of honey and fed her lover as he ravished her, covering his warm sugary lips with her own.

Like waves crashing around them, their first time came to a glorious crescendo as skin newly sensitized to sex, took them both over the edge. He released inside her, huffing against her cheek as she slumped against him babbling incoherently in her native tongue. He didn't understand a word but his name as she called it over and over, her words resonating against his shoulder, her tears falling like the rain.

They lay next to each other for a while, each glance between them eliciting giggles like children. She trailed her hand down his pale, lean torso, admiring his long neck and strong chin. She got up to his disappointment and started to dress. "Where are you going?" Will's brow furrowed.

"To take care of things," she replied sheepishly.

He looked up in confusion, "What things?"

"We don't want to make a baby our first time, Will. Let's leave it at that." She smiled.

The carpenter puzzled at his companion. "But, I would love you to have my children, Djaq."

She smiled softly. "Yes, but I do not think I'm ready just yet." She turned to walk away then paused. "Will?"

"Yes my love?"

"When we are alone together, call me Safiyya. Djaq is a boy's name and I do not feel like a boy when I am around you."

He smiled as his heart melted. "I love you, Safiyya."

She nodded, "And I love you, Will Scarlett."

~~~O~~~

He ran through the forest crying. Grown men didn't cry but most grown men didn't have to go through what he was going through now. His cheek still stung from the impact of Gisborne's gloved hand in the village as they looked for Lardner's ring. But what hurt worse was the humiliation that followed. He was nothing, Guy's dogsbody, and a traitor. He gave up all his friends and freedom for a few coins and the nightmare he now lived in the dark foreboding walls of the castle.

The black knight used him to suit his will, one minute as a sex surrogate for his twisted lust when Marian spurned him and the next as his punching bag when the outlaws outwitted him. Allan's body was quickly becoming a roadmap of scars, cuts, burns, mended fractures, and healed bruises that were a testament to his new life of servitude.

Many times Guy would leer at him menacingly as he lay in a heap from another assault. "Consider yourself lucky, Allan. I could rid myself of you in a heartbeat and no one would even find your body." It would usually be followed by a hard kick to his naked ribs that left him retching.

He had seen the oubliette and what happened to the most unfortunate of Guy's enemies. At night, as his fresh wounds throbbed, he would have nightmares. He stared up at his loathsome master from the pit, with decaying corpses surrounding him, crying and screaming for redemption. He would wake from the nightmare shivering as the cover was replaced and the lights went out with Guy's menacing laughter echoing around him.

He reminded himself as he sat alone by the creek that this was his fault. It would have been better if Gisborne had just killed him that night instead of turning him, better for all of them. Now all he had was pain. He looked at his reflection in the water and it was someone else. The black doublet echoed his new position as a sell-out. He turned and examined the reddening welts on his cheeks. Gis' latest gift, it would bruise nicely. That should please his lordship as he savaged him tonight.

The rustle of leaves behind him broke his thoughts. He remembered to duck this time as the sound of spinning metal came from nowhere. Djaq's disk embedded itself in the tree behind him and he looked at it then back in the direction it came from. "Not bein' funny, but what is it with you outlaws and knife throwin' now?"

"Allan A'Dale!" The young Saracen woman looked at her former friend with large eyes. "I thought you were one of the sheriff's men. I am sorry."

"I am one of the sheriff's men." He sized up the young healer carefully.

Djaq spoke in her usual soft tone but her hand never left the dagger at her side. "But only because you had no other choice." She walked over to the poacher and gingerly touched the welt on his cheek. "Oh Allan, why?"

"Cos, I failed to stop Robin and Marian from getting to the king's messenger. Gis dunnit like being made a fool of." He jerked away with tears stinging his eyes. "It just looks nasty. It dunnit hurt."

"The King sent a messenger for Robin? It must be important." She thought for a moment then looked at he former poacher. "Allan, you must leave that place and come back to the camp."

"You know I can't!"

"I'll speak to Robin. He will listen to me."

"You think so? You're one of them." Words came out faster than he could think them but they hurled as lethal as a throwing knife. "What makes you think he will listen to you? You're just someone else the 'igh an' mighty Lord Locksley can't trust."

She reacted as if the same invisible dagger hit her. "You don't mean that, Allan." He was the last person she expected to discriminate against her or question her loyalty to the gang and it hurt. She turned to walk away. "I must go. Will is waiting for me."

The poacher's hands pulled her to him and his lips crushed against hers, insistent and pleading. "No Djaq. I'm sorry. I dinnit mean any of that. You know how I feel about you."

She focused on him sadly and pulled out of his embrace. "Yes... I do now and that is exactly why I must go." She turned before she disappeared into the woods, "Take care of yourself, Allan A'Dale. I will pray to Allah for you but I do not wish to ever see you again."

~~~O~~~

"You still have feelings for him?" The sudden sound of her lover's voice shocked her.

"You saw?"

"Enough..." Clouds of jealousy boiled behind Will Scarlett's light green eyes. "Enough not to like it."

Djaq slid up next to the woodsman and placed her forehead on his shoulder. "He is so lost, Will, so angry. I cannot help him."

"You didn't answer my question," he said in a soft, almost whispered, voice. "Do you still have feelings for Allan?"

"No, my love. Not any more."

She cried on his shoulder as he led her back to camp.


	7. Forget the World

**Summary**: Much and Carter prepare to leave the barn where they'd sheltered during the storm. This chapter takes place at the same time as 2x09, "Lardner's Ring" but is set in France.

Inspired by Snow Patrol, "Chasing Cars": _"If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?"_

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter  
**Rating**: PG (implied slash, nothing explicit)  
**Genre**: slash

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Forget the World**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Dawn chased the clouds away and streaks of sunlight lit the barn in pale golden yellows. Much woke and smiled to himself as he watched Carter still sleeping peacefully. He swallowed the lump in his throat remembering the passion of the night, making love outside in the rain in that field of lavender. He leaned closer to Carter and breathed in the scent of his lover who still smelled of the purplish plant.

A cock crowed nearby. "Quiet," he whispered, as if the rooster would heed his request. Carter stirred. "You'll wake my lover." Much spooned his body around Carter's and gently planted a kiss on the knight's shoulder. "Shh..." he whispered. "'Tis not time to rise yet. That is just a bright moon tricking us."

"Good," Carter replied. He pulled Much's arm across his body and held it to his chest.

There were a few moments of silence before Much spoke again. "Silly, foolish man you say?" he teased.

"Funny, too," Carter reminded him.

"There was something else you said."

Carter shook his head, his eyes still closed to ward off the brightness of the crisp fall day. They had a long ride ahead and he wanted to savor every memory of the night they'd shared. It was not hard to do with Much's hot bare chest pressed against his back.

Much pursed his lips. "Yes, there was," he insisted.

Carter smiled, feigning ignorance. "Sleep," he said, squeezing Much's hand. "We'll need be on the road far too soon. For now let us forget the world for just a few minutes longer."

"What was it?"

Carter sighed knowing that Much would not stop talking. It was one of the things he found so endearing about this man he loved, something he would not change for all the gold in England. There would be no more sleep this morning. He felt the rise and fall of Much's chest against his back, steady and slow, hot breath against his neck. He pulled Much's hand to his lips and kissed it then turned to look at the former outlaw. But his lover's eyes were closed and Much had drifted back to sleep, his mouth curled into a tiny smile. "Beautiful," Carter said quietly, "I called you beautiful."

~~~O~~~

"What took you so long?" Much asked as Carter reappeared in the barn. He tossed his master a chunk of bread from their provisions and took a swig from his flask of mead.

Carter bit into the bread then eyed the dried beef that Much had laid out for breakfast. "Your horse decided to pay a visit to the cows down the lane," he said, dropping to the ground beside his squire. "The farmer's children found it quite amusing to watch me chase down that animal!"

"I told you I would get the horses and saddle them up. It is my job as your squire after all," Much told the knight. He chewed on a piece of the beef and laughed. "That horse does have a mind of its own."

"Then he suits you well!" Carter grinned. "You are both stubborn!"

"I am not--"

Carter cocked his head, studying Much's face.

"Am not," the squire repeated quietly with a mischievousness that brought a bigger grin to Carter's face.

Carter took a few bites of the beef and nodded toward the sunlight streaming into the barn. "We've lost a couple of hours of daylight. We'll not want to tarry in the mornings so much if we plan to get to Marseilles before Christmastide."

"Christmastide? We are only a few days ride from there. We will be in the Holy Land well before Christmastide."

Carter only smiled.

"And what do you mean--tarry?" Much pouted. "First I am stubborn and now I cause us to tarry? I only wanted to let you sleep a little while longer after... after last night... I thought you enjoyed--" He paused, cleared his throat. "Master, if you want a jolly time at night and a squire in the morning, then so be it. But don't complain if the timing is off."

"Much?" Carter's eyes focused on his lover.

"What?"

"We are alone." He twined his fingers through Much's and swallowed the lump in his throat. "We are lovers, not servant and master."

"You said that last night."

"And I meant it." Carter leaned close and brushed Much's mouth with a kiss. "Thank you for letting us rest a bit longer this morning, but if you call me master one more time--"

"Yes?" Much looked at the knight with those big blues eyes, his lips still warm and wet and tempting.

Carter had to look away for a moment to catch the breath that caught in his throat and still his pounding heart else they might never leave this barn. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that especially when we should be on the road."

"Like what you see?" Much teased him. Before Carter could reply he broke into laughter then jumped up, grabbing what remained of their breakfast and stuffing it into his food pouch. "We should get moving then! The quicker we get to the Holy Land to tell the King that his brother plots against him, that the people need his help, the sooner we will get back to Sherwood!" He held out his hand to Carter and pulled him up.

"Sherwood, Squire Much?" he chided the former outlaw. He picked up their blanket, tossed it over his shoulder, and followed Much outside where the horses were tethered. "You mean Bonchurch, my lord," he said, "the sooner we get back to Bonchurch!"

Carter leaned on his horse's haunches and watched as Much tied the food pouch and a flask to his saddle. "Much," he asked, as he climbed onto his steed, "will your saddle bag hold this blanket?"

"It should." Much patted the bag and frowned. It was packed tighter than he remembered. He lifted the flap to make room for the cover. "What--" A stem of blue-green foliage floated to the ground. Dozens of others protruded from the top of bag and the familiar scent of lavender was caught on the breeze.

Much turned around, his eyes moist with tears. Carter's face was bathed in sunlight and he held one of the flowers in his hand. The knight leaned down, brushed his hand along Much's jawline then covered his mouth with a kiss that would light the heavens.


	8. Fools, Pots, Pigeons and the Maiden

**Summary**: A young village girl named Kate reminisces about life in Locksley and observes what happens to people whose lives intersect with Robin Hood.

**Characters/Pairings**: Kate, the Gang, the Fool, McClellan, Guy  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: gen, slash (implied)

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Fools, Pots, Pigeons and the Maiden Who Saw It All**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

She'd been thirteen when they'd left. She was skinny and flat-chested, and he hadn't noticed her then. Don't s'pose she was good enough for the mighty young lord, who was always in the company of that beauty with the dark hair, the Lady Marian of Knighton. His manservant was rather cute tagging along like a puppy. She remembered when he'd come to the potter's shop to retrieve one of her mother's pots. It was to be a gift for his own mother who was a cook at the manor house. She'd been all of ten then and practically swooned over his deep blue eyes--they were like the bluest of skies. He was a thoughtful one, that Much, doing such a sweet thing for his mother. Very attentive to his young master, too, she'd noticed. Her mother said he had to be, but there certainly seemed to be a special bond between the two young men.

They came back from war five years later. Stronger. Wiser? Perhaps not since they'd been outlawed within a day of their return. And Much had followed him into the forest.

She hadn't been in Locksley that day. Her mother sent her to a cousin's house in Loughborough the week before to help with her new baby. Her brother Matthew was the one who told her how his friend Benedict and the Scarlett boys were caught with stolen flour, and how Robin helped them escape the noose. Now the former master of Locksley was banished to the forest, a price on his head. She'd see them sneak back, see Robin talking to Thornton whilst Much kept a lookout. But this Robin Hood shenanigans was dangerous. It put the villagers at risk. He didn't think. Just didn't think. Others got hurt in these games he played.

Of course, Sir Guy of Gisborne played games, too. Baiting Hood. Always waiting for a moment he might trap the outlaw. Not caring whether anyone else got hurt.

Today had been just such a day. She'd expected to see Hood's gang and his outlaws, not that she'd mind seeing Will Scarlett again. _Why did he and Lukey have to steal that flour?_ She'd give anything to have those two tease her again. She'd had such a crush on the tall and lanky carpenter. She was sure he felt the same way. Guess they'd never know now if it could have been more than that.

She'd felt certain that Hood's gang would not be able to resist all the carriages carrying finely dressed nobles arriving at Locksley, come to celebrate Sir Guy's birthday. She imagined that those nobles probably smell of rose petals or lavender. Took baths just to please the sheriff's nose not that she'd argue with that. Lord knew the master didn't appear to wash too frequently, wore the same leathers most days. She and her girlfriends--including one who worked in the manor--giggled at the snide remarks the sheriff often made about his lieutenant.

She remembered spotting Allan A Dale when she was delivering her mother's gift for the party. She wasn't quite sure why her girlfriend Gwen thought he was the most handsome of Hood's gang. Every time she looked at him all she saw was that big beak. Definitely not easy on the eyes. 'Course, he had a bigger flaw--she certainly didn't like outlaws, but wasn't being a traitor worse? Gossip said he'd betrayed Robin for money. Half of Nottingham knew he was Gisborne's boy. _Didn't even need to 'ave the town crier shout out that news,_ she thought. _Everyone knew when Gis had Allan in his bed. _

The Judas had been talking to a one-legged man near the stables. She hadn't recognized the stranger. He was no noble but Allan had grown excited as he talked to the man then he'd hurried back into the house.

Curiosity--or some would say impetuousness--drove her toward the stranger. She'd been about to greet him when an odd-looking bejewelled face caught her eye. A fool--the entertainment for Sir Guy's party. His lips were nearly ruby red and matched the paint on his cheeks and above his greyish eyes. Black and white painted diamonds covered his neck and he was wore an awful garish green and orange tunic.

He smiled kindly and nodded, "Milady."

Kate paused, nodded at the stranger, and then looked at the fool. "Wot's it like?" she asked. "Havin' people laugh at you?"

"I'm an entertainer," he replied, waving his hand with a flourish as he greeted Kate and the one-legged stranger. "It's what I love." He reached into her pot.

"Hey, stop that!" Kate exclaimed. "This is a gift for the master. My mother made it!"

"Did you want this bird in it?" the fool asked as he pulled his hand from the pot and held up a pigeon for her to see.

Kate's eyes grew wide. "How did you--?"

The one-legged stranger laughed heartily.

The fool's brows flew up to meet his hairline and he cocked his head. "That is my secret, milady," he said with a wink. "You like secrets, don't you? I bet you and your girlfriends share them all the time!" he chided her.

Kate felt herself blush and was about to deny it, lie though it would be, when the stranger interrupted.

"May I ask what Lord Locksley is celebrating?" he asked.

Kate's nose scrunched up. It was the first time she noticed that the man smelled of sweat mingled with dirt and grime. He carried a basket, holding it like it contained a thousand pieces of silver. "Who are you?" she asked.

"You look as if you've been travelling long and hard, sir," the fool said. "And what a sweet sound," he added as a bird in the man's basket cooed.

"McClellan," he said with a slight bow. "I've been on sea and land for more than two months, just returned from the Holy Land with La Denair."

Kate rolled her eyes. Another one returned from the war. And with a bird. What foolishness!

"I have a message from the king for his friend, the lord of the manor," he added.

"A message and a bird?" Kate sneered.

The fool nodded. "Of course. And let me guess--a ring?" He smiled from painted ear to painted ear.

McClellan tipped his head knowingly but Kate could only throw both men a puzzled look. "I didn't know that Sir Guy knew the King," she said as one of the master's soldiers drew up beside them.

"Sir Guy?" McClellan paled a shade of white that made Kate's fair skin seem darker than the Saracen outlaw's. "What has happened to Robin?"

Kate grimaced. "Robin of Locksley is an outlaw. Best not mention his name 'round here."

The former soldier glanced around nervously. "My message is for Robin only, outlaw or not. The king trusts no one else."

McClellan escaped to the woods and Allan, who'd been ordered by Sir Guy to bring him in, returned empty handed. Half the village heard the Sheriff's outburst. He shouted a stream of obscenities, mounted his horse, and then took off at a gallop back toward Nottingham. Sir Guy's blood boiled. He glared at Allan, punched him so hard that he fell to his knees, and gave him a good solid kick to the gut before he followed the Sheriff.

Allan stumbled away from the house. Blinded by tears he nearly knocked Kate down as he ran toward the woods. She almost felt sorry for him. But when Sir Guy returned a short while later and he and Allan started terrorizing the villagers looking for that ring she knew she was right. Anything that had to do with Hood was trouble.


	9. Bid My Blood To Run

**Summary**: Allan takes out his anger on Will in the dungeon. This chapter takes place during 2x09, "Lardner's Ring".

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Allan, the Fool  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Angst, Slash, Rape

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Bid My Blood to Run **  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"There were times you liked this back at camp," he hissed into the woodsman's ear.

Will tried to pull away from the former outlaw as he held him tight to the pole he was chained to. "Just let me be, Allan." He knew the fool had the keys they needed to escape once they had a chance but for now he was in the traitor's clutches.

"Let you be?" the dogsbody questioned with a sneer. "As you let me be?"

The black Saracen knife traced a line down the outlaw's alabaster torso leaving a trail of scarlet behind it. The cut wasn't deep but Will's pale green eyes widened in pain as he struggled against his restraints. He wasn't going to scream. That would be the last thing he wanted to do, to give this piece of filth the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Allan smirked at his work well done. "Betcha Lord Locksley won't be happy I messed up his pretty boy." He laughed at Will's indignant look. "Bet he just loved you when he wasn't busy shagging that prissy little manservant of his, no? He innit so happy now that Much done run off with that fancyboy, is he?" He looked at the glowing brazier next to them. The irons were almost ready. "Time for the fun to begin, innit?" He reached over and grabbed the first red-hot iron. The metal hissed as he dragged it across Will's naked flesh.

The outlaw strained against his bonds and although he tried his best the pain over came him and he screamed. Allan raked the tortured carpenter's head back by the hair. "Oh you'll escape, Will Scarlett. I know you will." He leered at his victim, "But not till I've had my sport with you."

Allan ran his hand down Will's naked torso. "Nice, but not nearly as nice as Lukey's is it? Oh we had such fun in the forest. How he begged me for more." He yanked his former friend by the hair back toward him when he turned away. "I had him over and over while he was with us. He liked it in the arse, he did." He leaned in as he scraped another tool of torture up the carpenter's side, taking pale slivers of skin with it. "I miss his hot mouth on my cock. He was almost as good with wood as you are."

Will spat as he strained against the manacles. "You sick bastard! I'll kill you! Pray I never escape Allan. I'll have your blood, I swear it!"

"You'll have nothing! As I do now!" The traitor looked at his captive sadly. "You are nothing!" He lifted the knife to his victim's sensuously long neck. "I could end it all here, right now. Just let you bleed out in my arms, Will Scarlett. What would your pretty bird, that Saracen whore, think about you then? Would she miss you?" He smirked salaciously, "Did she tell you it was her first time too? I bet she did. She did me too you know, cried like a maiden she did." He grabbed the gasping outlaw by the throat. "Don't be so naive carpenter. That filthy, Palestine whore paid her way to England with that cunt."

"I won't have you talking about Djaq like that!" Will spat, shaking. "She loves you! She begged Robin to take you back in the gang! You filthy disgusting liar! How could you say that about her?" He slumped against his bonds sobbing. "How could you say that about Lukey? He looked up to you."

Allan was crying silently at this point. It was all lies. How could he say those things to his friend? But he wanted this. Since that day in the forest when he saw the love in Djaq's eyes turn to hate for him, he wanted Will to hurt as bad as he did. He wanted his former friend to feel every bruise, every cut, and feel the bile rise in his throat every time he saw the faces of those he loved, knowing he failed them. "Lukey begged for my cock as I fucked him! 'Ow does it feel knowin' I deflowered your little brother and your girl?" He leaned into his captive's ear. "But yours was always the hottest." He ran his hands roughly over the outlaws backside. "Oh how I've missed that arse. Not bein' funny, but I might have a taste of it again before I let you go." Will heard the sound of lacings being loosened as rough hands were at his own leggings.

"Oh God. No, Allan!" Not this, he would rather die than this. His tears flowed as he realized what the man he once loved was about to do. He had heard rumours of how people were treated in Nottingham by Gisborne, Vaizey and their torturers. It was routine chat around the campfires at night about the sick perverted acts the nobles inflicted on their victims in the dungeon. Now he was getting it first hand. His mind shut down as he was forced open by rough fingers. His screams were silenced by the dirty gag suddenly pushed into his mouth as he was defiled. His mind went back to better times and gentler hands as he and Allan spent quiet nights in camp. They comforted each other in the days before Allan turned traitor and it was more than just friendship. Now those same hands were like a leprosy on the carpenter's flesh and Allan's member was an unwelcome plague.

This was not the Allan A'Dale he remembered but a depraved nightmare version of him that moaned obscenities in his ear and made him bleed as he came. As the shock and pain subsided he realized his tormentor was crying too. The pace became less furious and the touch more tender. Screams turned to moans. This was the Allan he remembered. Raw, hot anger was replaced with desperate need for touch and belonging. "I'm sorry, Will. Oh God! I'm so sorry." He turned the outlaw to face him and tore away the cloth from his mouth. "Please... forgive me."

Before the words were out all the way, a stream of saliva and blood hit his face like venom as the other man leered at him. "That is all the forgiveness a traitor like you deserves. Do what you will to me, torture me, rape me but I will never become you Allan. I'll never be like you."

Allan swatted the captive hard with the back of his hand, making blood shoot out of his ruined lips. "And that is all an outlaw like you deserves!" He jerked the carpenter by his hair and hissed in his ear. "By this time tomorrow you'll be swinging in the courtyard and it will be my turn to spit on your corpse."

"Guard!" Allan yelled as he wiped the offal from his face. "Take this garbage back to his cell!"

Will focused his green eyes, filled with hate, at the man he once loved and reiterated his lament, "I might be nothing but garbage, but I would rather die on the gallows than be like you!"

"Then die you shall, outlaw!" Allan knew his words were hollow threats. The fool had the key and with it the hope of escape. He saw the last chance to reach his friend, to rekindle the love they once had, die. Those days were gone and only bitterness remained. Gis would be here soon and he had no information to give for all his actions.

Tomorrow they would set back out into the forest to find the sultan's pigeon and stop any chances of the outlaw alerting the King to the Sheriff's treacherous plans. This evening he would resign himself to his master's whip. He knew the drill. Any minute now Gis would burst through the door to the torture chamber and would expect his boy to be ready. Allan removed his tunic and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut as he heard Guy scream at the gaoler.

~~~O~~~

The half-dead and bleeding carpenter was roughly thrown into the cell with the wide-eyed performer. The Fool exclaimed loudly to the guards, "You could have at least brought better company!"

Will moaned on the floor, not moving for a while. The comedian waited till the guards were gone then tended to his new friend. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live," the carpenter replied. "I just need to figure out what to do after that."

"We will escape," the joker replied, as he cradled the outlaw. He carefully checked Will for injuries and gasped at the fresh wounds Allan inflicted. "I thought he was your friend?"

"He was once," Will nodded.

"He still is," the Fool replied with an enigmatic smile. "He saw me snatch his keys. We will escape as he wants us to."

"After what he did to me tonight, I doubt it." Will curled up at his new friend's knees as the fool stroked his fevered brow.

Gisborne entered the dungeon and sneered at the two prisoners on his way to where the traitor was.

The Fool looked after the black knight then down at the now fitfully sleeping carpenter as he stroked his hair, "Sometimes we are just mere actors on a stage. I fear your friend has someone else pulling his strings, too."

He listened forlornly as the sickening echo of leather suddenly cracked sharply against skin. Allan's screams now echoed from the chamber as Guy's evil laughter followed.


	10. A Knight In Aquitaine

**Summary**: Carter and Much continue their trek through France toward the Holy Land.

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, Queen Eleanor, mentions King Richard  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Slash

* * *

**Chapter Ten: A Knight in Aquitaine**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted and RobinFanatic**

-----------------

"Milady!" the former servant said as he fell to one knee and bowed his head.

The lady, regally dressed in a crimson velvet court dress with lavish gold trims, smiled sweetly with down-turned eyes as she lifted his chin with her fingers. "I know you. Where do I know you?" A spark of recognition widened her eyes. "My son's royal guard! You are Lord Locksley's manservant, Mulch."

"That is Much, milady," Carter cautiously added, suppressing a giggle to his lover's annoyed glance.

The older woman laughed genially, "Of course, I am sorry. Much, forgive a foolish old lady."

The squire nodded reverently. What choice did he have? "It is all right, milady."

She bade the men to rise with her hands and held the former manservant at arms length, "You clean up well, Squire Much."

"Thank you, milady," he croaked nervously.

She slyly eyed her son's former guard and winked, "It is about time you found a nice man and settled down, Carter."

"Milady!" Much forgot himself and exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Relax, Much, we are all friends here and there is no one else around." She then thought, "But I cannot have one of my favourite knights bedding a commoner, even one as adorable as you."

"Oh." Much's heart sank.

"But then I don't have to worry about that, do I? I've had word Sheriff Vaizey has already done that for me, has he not?" She smiled a touch evilly. "We just need to show him a thing or two and make the title he conferred official."

Much was completely confused as she nodded at Carter to hand her his sword. Much's eyes widened in fear.

She raised the blade. "Kneel please. You will earn this in time but it is my duty to confer this on you now as it is in my power." She touched the sword tip to the squire's left shoulder. "By the power vested in me as Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen Mother of England, I dub thee Lord Much of Bonchurch, Earl of Wight." She finished with the right shoulder then bade the new lord to rise. She handed Carter back his sword and dusted her hands on her gown. "There, now that that is over with, I have had my servants draw a bath for you boys. We shall talk of England and my son John tomorrow--he has invited me to spend Christmas with him at Pontefract Castle. I should like to know what he has been up to. But the hour is late and you certainly must be hungry and tired after your journey." The Queen smiled at Carter. "I hope you still favour lavender for your soak, Carter." She winked at Much. "He just loves lavender."

Carter nodded grinning warmly, making the newly-titled nobleman blush. "He knows I do." They followed the Queen and her servant as they led the way to the men's rooms.

"She... she... knighted me," Much stammered, looking at his lover unsurely. "What do I do now?"

Carter leered, "Try to wipe that grin off your face and enjoy it."

Much stared at the oversized bath nestled cosily in one corner of an oversized bedchamber, the likes of which he had never seen before. "Still favour lavender? What did she mean?" An arrangement of lavender stems graced the side table. Steam rose from the bath and a familiar scent lingered in the room. Picking up one of the plants, he wandered toward the loop and looked outside, his eyes wide at the sea of purple that carpeted a magnificent garden.

Carter cleared his throat. "When I first travelled to the Holy Land, my father secured an audience for me with Queen Eleanor. You can see she is a gracious hostess. Back then, as now, my room was filled with lavender," he said as he pulled his tunic over his head. That bath--and Much--looked so inviting after the hours they'd spent in the saddle. "The Queen even had me take dried stems to His Majesty, to remind him of Aquitaine."

"To the King? So you've shared--"

"That was long ago, Much."

Oh God how he wanted to believe that Carter's heart was all his. Why did he still have doubts? How could he compete with the King for Carter's affection? What was he thinking? He stared at the lavender in his hand then twirled it between his fingers.

"Surely you remember what it was like to be--"

"Wild nights with wild knights. For some," Much murmured. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed Carter come up behind him. His heart started to pound. "But the King? If he favours you then what does that mean for me--for us?"

Carter wrapped his arms around his lover. "Long ago," Carter whispered, his breath hot on Much's neck, "before I met you."

A familiar ache spread through Much's body, an ache stirred by so much more than lust. He glanced back at the knight. "I know that look--"

"You see, I have this soft spot for a squire from Nottingham." Carter kissed Much's neck. "He has the most incredible blue eyes. A mouth curved like a Saracen bow. With lips that warm my soul. I love you, Much. There is no other."

"I knew that." Much moaned softly as Carter nibbled on his ear. "And I won't let you forget it."

Carter's hand slid under Much's tunic. The squire's head was pressed back against his shoulder and his eyes met Carter's. A soft smile lit the knight's face. "That little look back," he said. "That means I've won."

"Yes?" Much asked. "What else?"

Carter looked at his lover, his eyes twinkling mischievously. His palm glided over the laces on Much's leggings. "Shall I keep talking?"

Much shook his head. Words were lost in the next few minutes, and only the sounds of each other's pleasure echoed off the walls. Carter stroked his hardening flesh, his touch so gentle that every nerve in the squire's body felt afire. Much turned in Carter's arms and their lips met in a tender kiss. Much's tunic found the floor and the knight's hands wandered down his naked back toward the roundness of his arse. Hands and lips became entangled with need. Much found himself pressed against the wall, his arms pinned over his head, his body ravished by a mouth so hot he thought his blood might boil. Carnal lust consumed them as they panted their need into each other. Much sought his lover's eyes as his tongue moved over way too sensitive skin in a slow dance of torturous bliss. Carter's greedy lips found the places that made the other man mad with desire. Much stood there, his eyes closed, his lover's name on his lips like an incantation. Carter held his lover firmly in place with one hand as his lips swept blissfully up his side. Much squirmed with each touch. He whimpered as his lover teased him, always coming up from his task to see the look of passion in his captive's eyes, lips achingly inches from his own. Carter was enjoying this and was obviously good at it as well. Much smiled at the delicious torture. "You certainly wouldn't treat King Richard this way."

Carter leered up seductively, "Who do you think invented this little game?"

The new knight's eyes widened in realization at the comment then wider still as his lover's lips made contact with his weeping member. "Oh...oh!" Carter released his partner only so they could continue in the bath what he started. Hands finally free, Much sat on the edge of the tub and ran his fingers through his lover's flaxen hair as Carter proved his talents with his mouth rivalled his skill with sword and bow. Much imagined that same mouth on the King himself, tantalizing and stroking him to ecstasy. It was too much and he found himself beyond the edge of control. His body went limp as he slid into the water and Carter's lips slid up his chest and throat and on his mouth as he tasted his own lust there. Brilliant blue eyes met his as he smiled weakly. "I must say, Master. I like the way you treated the King."

Carter grinned as their lips met again softly. "You are a knight now. No master, no servant, just us. I want you, Much, never again as your master but from this moment on only as your lover."

Much nodded, smiling as Carter turned him gently. Strong arms held him close, a shield against the cruel world of war and madness they would soon face. With the knight's heart beating against his back, Much knew passion--and love--that was more intense than any he'd felt before. Carter entered him gently and they lay in ecstasy in the warm fragrant water, connected as one. Every thrust from his lover brought tears of joy to the former servant and squire. Everything was perfect. Being with Carter at that moment, he felt complete. Carter's hands slid from his hips to his groin, and with his tender strokes they climaxed again together. Neither man wanted to let go of the other nor this moment so they lay there panting and kissing till the water cooled.


	11. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Summary**: Guy goes too far in punishing Allan for his failure to catch the outlaws. Can Will and Djaq forgive Allan and come to his rescue? And how can Marian help? This chapter is set just post 2x09, "Lardner's Ring".

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan, Guy, Marian, Robin, Djaq, Will  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: Angst

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Someone to Watch Over Me**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

It was a rough day in the forest. Allan was tired and just wanted to rest. Facing the gang again in battle also left him emotionally drained. Seeing Will and Djaq even in anger was good. They were still all right even if they hated him and he was happy for them. His happiness was short lived.

"Allan!"

"Yes, Lord Gisborne." He tried to make his voice sound as sincere as possible. No 'Gis' after today. He could tell the black knight was angry, murderously so.

"You let Hood escape -- AGAIN!"

"But we got the pigeon!" He tried to smile warmly. "And Marian is back in the castle... _Oof_!" His breath was taken away as a leather clad knee crushed into his groin. The pain shot though him like one of the outlaw's flaming arrows.

_Not the groin again, Gis. Please?_

The last time the sheriff's man did this, the former outlaw urinated blood for three days and it scared him. This was a new pain, one that made his stomach turn in its intensity.

"Get up!" Guy spat impatiently. When ignored by the groaning man, he sent another kick into the man's groin, making him vomit. The knight sneered. "You're disgusting!" He walked away as Allan writhed on the floor in agony. "Clean yourself up, Allan, and be glad I let you live."

The rest of the day was a blur of agony for the poacher. Walking was unbearable and sitting impossible. He staggered around trying to perform his tasks and was terrified of what would happen when his master found out he couldn't. He staggered down the hall and almost knocked down Lady Fitzwalter.

"Look where you're going!" She paused and drew her breath at the usually cheeky former outlaw's drawn appearance. "Allan, are you ill?"

"Nahh, just got in Gis's way and he tuned me up a bit. I'm fine." He groaned as he moved the wrong way.

Marian was alarmed. She pulled the staggering outlaw into her bedchamber. "Allan, you are pale as death! You are not fine!"

"I can't be here! Gis..."

"Did this to you!" she finished with a hiss. "Stay here. I'll tell one of the maids I sent you to the convent for my things. Then I'll go get Djaq when it gets dark."

~~~O~~~

The birdcall made everyone in camp sit up, especially Robin. Of all the gang only two people made the call like that and one of them was thousands of miles away by now. Or was he? He listened again. No, it was Marian. For a split second, he fought down the disappointment. He ran to the clearing where the maiden was standing under the trees, cloaked and hooded. She smiled sweetly and threw her arms around her lover.

"You escaped?" He grinned, his green eyes agleam with boyish mischief. Lips met, tentatively at first, then more hungrily as her whole body tingled under her naughty lover's ministration. For the briefest of seconds, she almost forgot what she came for. "It wasn't easy," she confessed. "I think Sir Guy might send for the court physician if this headache I keep feigning doesn't get better soon."

Robin's smile faded. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know that, but I need Djaq. It's Allan -- he is gravely ill. I think Gisborne has injured him."

"Then let him die a traitor's death!" Robin's eyes swirled with emerald hate.

Marian glared at her suitor. "He was your friend! He helped you fight for England!"

"He betrayed the king!"

"I will go," the Saracen's voice sounded behind them.

Will had his hand on Djaq's shoulder. "No, it's too dangerous. It might be a trap."

"If you saw him you would know it isn't." Marian looked at her friends helplessly. "He is in pain and can hardly walk. Gisborne has been taking his frustration out on him," she looked at the others with a guilty stare, "because of us."

Robin thought for a moment. It was no secret how he felt about Allan, but he had shown signs of helping the outlaws despite what happened between them. Besides, no one deserved to be mistreated by Gisborne, not even a traitor. He looked at the healer. "Go with her. See what is the matter."

"I will get my bag." Djaq nodded solemnly and started to leave.

The carpenter grabbed her by the arm. "I'll go with you."

She looked down at Will's hand and then into his eyes. "After earlier, you don't trust me?"

He levelled his eyes at her. "I don't trust him."

~~~O~~~

The female outlaw gingerly removed the traitor's black leggings then peeled down his braies, gasping softly at his bruised loins.

"Oh my God! Where is his... his...?" Will turned pale and self-consciously grabbed himself in fright.

Marian was looking away but at Will's comment she took a quick look. "Oh, poor Allan!" she exclaimed then remembered herself and turned away again.

Allan looked away as the Saracen examined his groin. "No this innit embarrasin' at all," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh this is bad. He has a retracted testicle. I have seen this in battle." She giggled. "Usually it was after a soldier had upset a prostitute."

"I beg your pardon," Allan spat out defensively. "I did no such thing. I just ticked off Gis!" The poacher looked down in genuine terror. "Will the 'boys' be...you know...all right again?"

Djaq shushed the former outlaw. "You will be fine, Allan." She turned to her lover. "Will, I need you to hold him." She then focused her eyes on the patient. "Allan, I am not going to lie to you. What I am about to do it is going to hurt bad, worse than when it happened in the first place." She then looked at Marian and Will. "I need something to put in his mouth because he is going to scream... loudly."

Will thought then reached in his pocket and pulled out a stick he was whittling on. Marian wrapped it in one of her silk handkerchiefs with a look of sorrow and dread on her face.

Allan was frightened pale. He swallowed hard. "I really wish you hadna said it was gonna hurt. Couldn't ya just, ya know, leave it?"

Djaq looked at him and explained like a mother to a small child, "If you leave it, the pain will only get worse. It will only hurt for a moment." She smiled, "I promise."

The Saracen nodded at the carpenter and he gently placed his hand on Allan's shaking chin and placed the wrapped stick in his mouth. Marian looked away blushing furiously as she held the former outlaw's legs. Will's slender but strong, arms interlocked firmly with his former friend's. Djaq tenderly palpitated Allan's groin with her fingers and felt for the undescended organ. Satisfied, she pushed gently but firmly.

"MMMMMMMMMMMAMMMMMMMMMMMHhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmHHMMMMMMMMMM!" Allan's face glowed red as his blue eyes threatened to leave their sockets.

Will locked his own green eyes on the poacher's. "You're fine, Allan. I've got you."

"Just breathe, Allan. Almost... got it!" Djaq gently pushed down, resettling the gland with a sudden pop.

Allan was sweating profusely. Every vein in his neck bulged and he passed out.

"Is he...?" Will looked up at his girlfriend in shock.

"He's resting," Djaq smiled. "He'll be fine now." She turned to Marian. "He needs to sleep for the night and have cold compresses applied. Can you see to it that happens?"

The Lady nodded forlornly. "It is the least I can do. I let this happen to him. I saw the way Guy was treating him because of me and I did nothing because I was so angry at him for betraying the gang."

"It's all right, Marian," Allan recovered at her words. He looked at her and nodded as Will helped him sit up. "I deserved it."

Djaq glared at her friend. "No one deserves what that man has done to you!" She walked over to the former outlaw. "Let me talk to Robin. You can leave tonight, with us, back to the forest."

"No I can't." Allan coughed and winced from the pain. "If I go, Gis takes it out on her." He looked at his former comrade almost pleadingly. "Will, I know you still hate me and can never forgive me for what I done but do this for me. Tell Robin I'm sorry and I'll look after her."

The carpenter nodded. "I will." He turned to the healer. "Time to go before the guards are alerted."

~~~O~~~

Gisborne stormed through the corridors of the castle. "Allan!" He upturned everything in his path and threw open every door. "Allan! Show yourself!"

He stopped at Marian's door. She had it opened a crack and was staring him down, trying hard to swallow the lump of fear she felt as she looked into his menacing eyes. "Sir Guy! What is the reason for this awful racket so early in the morning?"

"My servant--the outlaw that betrayed Hood--is missing. I think he might have fled the castle and returned to the gang."

"He did no such thing!"

The black knight cocked his head to one side and looked at her quizzically. "And you know this how, Lady Marian?"

"Because, I sent him away myself. To the convent... to fetch my things."

"You sent Allan to a convent?" he sneered still only half believing her.

Marian shrugged, "He's good with nuns. He should be returning by first light."

"You should have informed me of this, Marian."

"I thought a day away from the castle would be good for him."

Guy glared at the noblewoman. "Why do you say that?"

Marian looked down. "I've seen the bruises... the way you treat him... beating him like an animal. I would like it to stop."

Gisborne snorted. "You, taking up the cause of an outlaw and a traitor?" He turned and laughed. "What is the world coming to?"

Marian suddenly blushed with anger. "I care for the wellness of another human being! Besides, he looks up to you, Guy. Although, after the way you treat him, I hardly see why he does."

"How I treat my manservant is no concern of yours." His pale blue eyes glowed angrily.

Marian gazed fearlessly at him. "No sir, it is not. But know this," her voice softening as she fingered the lacings of his jerkin, "When someone I care for is nice to the people around them, I tend to be much nicer to that person."

Guy studied the lady like a rare flower, looking for the thorns he knew were there. "So you want me to be nicer to Allan? In exchange for what?"

She smiled, smoothing the rough leather of his tunic. "You'll be amazed at how my headaches will improve if you do. I might even consider taking one of those long walks you fancy so much." Her hand found his and she held it up to his lips.

The black knight's eyes widened slightly as he took in her perfume and kissed her hand. Perhaps there was a small victory to be had in this little battle of wits Lady Fitzwalter was playing with him. "Then nicer I shall be. But don't expect me to peel grapes for the traitor."

"I should hope you would reserve that task only for me," Marian teased. "Goodnight, Sir Guy." She stifled a yawn, "Or should I say good day?"

Gisborne hid his slight disappointment at the abrupt end to their meeting, "Oh... yes, I did disturb your sleep. Apologies and good night, Lady Marian." He turned and walked back down the corridor, his steps a little lighter and if Marian could have seen, she would have been surprised at the uncharacteristic smile on the nobleman's face.

Marian closed the door only to find Allan standing behind it sweating profusely, holding a sword. As the door gave way so did he, ending up in a pile on the floor.

"Allan!" Marian leaned over the fallen traitor. "What are you doing?"

"Protectin' you," he mewled weakly, "or at least tryin' to."

She laughed softly as she helped him up. "I hardly think I'm the one needing protecting here." They both collapsed on her bed and she helped him climb in. She placed the wounded dogsbody's head in her lap and stroked his ginger hair. "You would risk yourself to protect me, Allan?"

He replied quietly, "Not bein' funny or nuthin', but I think you just did the same for me."

"Then we'll protect each other." She yawned quietly and smiled when her words were greeted by soft snores. She leaned her head back on the pillows and soon was sleeping soundly herself.

~~~O~~~

The morning found the former poacher still sore but better as Djaq had predicted. He rose early, sneaking out of the lady's room and back to his own before being summoned for morning duties. He was surprised at the calm almost kind expression his master had as he nodded at him. "Fetch mine and Lady Marian's horses, Allan. We are riding together today."

An hour later Allan was struggling with the saddle on the lord's horse when both Guy and Marian arrived at the stables. The black knight's face creased in anger and he started to yell but was stopped by a hand at his shoulder and a glance from the lady's impossibly blue eyes.

"Perhaps Sir Guy might give you a hand with that, Allan," she said, almost causing the servant to drop the heavy saddle in surprise.

Guy looked at his companion under his brows and smirked but did as told. He walked over to his servant and helped hoist the saddle over his horse. "Next time, Allan, get one of the stableboys to help you." He then half smiled, "Wouldn't want you to injure yourself."

Allan paused then stammered in surprise, "Y-Yes, milord."

They helped Marian on her horse then Guy got on his and they took off slowly down the path. Marian turned to the knight. "Should not your manservant come with us? You know, for protection from outlaws?"

Guy was almost speechless with indignation but relented to the warm glance she shot him. "Allan! Mount your horse and follow us," he called back.

Allan returned Marian's knowing smile with one of his own. "Right away, Lord Gisborne."

He wasn't quite sure what was happening but somehow he felt things had just gotten a lot better for him at the castle.


	12. Tears and Rain

**Summary**: Robin gets a late night visitor. This chapter is set just post 2x09, "Lardner's Ring".

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Much, Little John  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: Angst, Hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Tears and Rain**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

_The camp matched his mood, dark, empty and lonely. Remnants of Marian were all around him. The others, sensing the coming storm, gave the outlaw leader his space. He let out a roar as he kicked the fire sending sparks and cinders everywhere. He cried for the first time since the war, since he almost lost her to death a year earlier. "Why?" he called out to the darkened sky as the rain fell. He dropped to his knees as the torrent soaked him completely in moments. "Marian!" He sobbed deeply as the heavy drops hit his face. "Much!" He looked around the empty camp like a lost child seeking its mother. "Why did you leave me?"_

_"__Cos, we had to, Master."__  
__  
__Robin spun at the voice. He stood there same as always, kind smile, and pouting lips like a Saracen bow; that funny sideways turn of the head. "Much!" Robin ran to embrace his friend. The servant chuckled softly as his former master embraced him like a favourite toy. Robin sobbed into his friend's shoulder. "She's gone, Much, back to the castle… back to him."_

_"__I know, Master,"the former outlaw said forlornly as he patted his friend's back._

_"__But you returned. I knew you would come back."_

_"__I could never leave you, Robin." Much took his friend at arms length and touched his forehead to Robin's, focusing light blue eyes on his master's green ones. "I will never leave you."_

_Robin noticed that Much's clothing was dry. Torrents of rain surrounded them and not a drop was on him. "This is a dream, isn't it?"_

_Much smiled sadly and nodded, "At least it's not a nightmare, Master."_

_Robin started crying again. "I miss you, Much. Why does everybody I love leave me?"_

_The outlaw covered his former master's mouth with his own, kissing him deeply. Much broke the kiss and gazed into Robin's eyes. "Master, when will you ever understand? We never leave you, you just push us away."_

_  
_~~~O~~~

Strong, gentle hands lifted him and he woke up. The familiar smell of the musty leather greeted Robin as he stirred. "_Shhhh_! There, there, you were dreaming, crying in your sleep. It's raining and we are all going to the cave to wait out the storm. I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to carry you, if that was all right?"

The former earl looked up at the giant outlaw carrying him and nodded. "I am awake now, John. You can put me down."

Little John did as told but was surprised when Robin turned and wrapped his arms around him. He comforted his friend as they sat back down on one of the drenched bunks. "It's all right, let it out," the giant sighed. "Tears, rain, no one else in the camp will know which is which and I am here to make sure of it. Let it out, then we will go to the cave."

"He's gone, John. Marian, too." The archer clung to the giant as his tears fell. "I have no one to care for me any more."

John held the outlaw leader tight, "No Robin, that is not true. You still have us."

Robin cried that night more than any night of his life as Little John held him. The thunder drowned his sobs and the rain hid his tears.


	13. Beneath A Silver Sky

**Summary**: The Gang sit under the stars in Sherwood and wonder where Much is now. This chapter is set the night before the events of 2x10, "Walkabout".

**Characters/Pairings**: Will, Djaq, Robin, Little John, Allan, Marian  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre**: Gen

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Beneath A Silver Sky**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

Robin could have sworn he'd made no sound, despite the rapidly fading light and yet Little John barely looked up as he entered the camp, already aware of his approach. He hung up his bow, threw his quiver onto his bunk and sat down heavily by the fire.

"Will and Djaq not back from Nettlestone yet?" he said as his eyes scanned the camp.

"Obviously." John continued stirring the pot bubbling on the range.

"Smells good. What is it?"

"Soup."

Robin frowned at John, trying to work out if he was deliberately not being talkative or just being himself. John answered the question for him with one of his own.

"How is Marian?"

"I wish I knew. Couldn't get anywhere near her." Robin paused, suddenly remembering he'd told the Gang he was going to Clun.

John stopped stirring and regarded Robin sternly. "You shouldn't go to Nottingham on your own. I know you miss her but it's too dangerous." He cocked his head slightly and then nodded to himself. "Ah - about time!"

"What?" Robin looked round as John glanced over to the camp doorway where Will and Djaq suddenly appeared. Will was carrying two chickens and Djaq pulled a large loaf of bread from her pack.

"What took you so long?" Robin asked.

"We... uh..." Will stammered and blushed furiously.

"We ran into some guards on the way back and had to hide until they'd gone." Djaq handed the bread to Robin then took the chickens from Will, sat down and started plucking one of them. John said nothing but when Djaq looked over at him, he slowly raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled her most innocent smile at him and carried on removing feathers.

"How was Marian?" Will asked.

Robin looked sharply at John who merely shrugged.

"I didn't see her," he said to Will.

"You shouldn't go to Nottingham..."

"I know - all right! I know!" Robin stood up, tossed the bread onto the table and went over to his bunk. He hung the quiver next to his bow then lay down and locked his fingers behind his head, staring up through the roof of the camp.

Will and John looked at each other for a moment then went back to preparing the meal. Will picked up the other chicken, sat down next to Djaq and started plucking it. They spoke softly together, alternately laughing at the other's comments. At one point Will gently reached up and removed a stray short feather from Djaq's hair. He tickled the end of her nose with it and she playfully punched him on the arm.

John smiled as he watched them, then realised he wasn't alone - Robin had turned in his bunk and was regarding Will and Djaq with a strange look. Had he too guessed how close they'd become in Allan and Much's absence? What was that look - jealousy? Sadness? Or just curiosity?

Will peered up through the canopy of trees as darkness fell across Sherwood. "Clear night, tonight - you can already see the stars."

"That just means it will be cold," said Robin bitterly, as he lay back and stared upwards again.

"Mmmm. Better make sure the fire is properly set before we go to sleep." Will glanced over to where the chopped firewood was stacked. They had enough to last for a while yet, he needn't worry.

"I bet Much is nice and warm. Where do you suppose he is now? South of France?" Will turned round and looked quizzically at Robin.

"No, he should be on a boat by now," Robin replied. "And the nights in the Holy Land can be just as cold as here," _especially without another's warmth to hold on to_, he thought.

"Oh? I thought it was really hot there?" Will looked between Robin and Djaq with surprise.

"Only during the day," Djaq said. "At night, the heat vanishes from the ground and you can see the stars from horizon to horizon."

"Much always liked looking at the stars. Said no matter where we were, as long as he could see the stars and know they were the same as the ones over Locksley, he'd be fine. They were the only familiar thing he had to hold on to." Robin's voice cracked slightly with barely contained emotion.

They all focussed on him as he lay on his bunk, his eyes still looking up but his heart and thoughts now a thousand miles away.

"Then I'm sure he is looking at them now and thinking of us as we are thinking of him," Djaq said.

Will smiled fondly at her as he put his hand on hers.

John crossed to Robin's bunk and laid his hand on Robin's shoulder.

"As is Marian," he said quietly, as he handed Robin a bowl of soup and some bread.

Robin looked up at him as he sat up and accepted the food. "And Alice and your boy," Robin softly replied.

John's face was unreadable as he returned to the fire...

~~~O~~~

"I don' like stars."

Marian started as she heard Allan's voice behind her.

"They are useful for finding your way," she replied, annoyed that he'd crept up on her so easily. She continued to gaze out over the castle courtyard. The distant woods and hills were a long black shadow on the horizon against the brilliant night sky.

"They're not useful if you don' want to be seen... and anyway - I always know my way."

"Are you sure about that, Allan? I think you've been looking a little lost recently." She turned towards him as he drew level with her. "How's your... How are you feeling?"

"Oh, yeah - better, thanks."

"Good. Don't mention it."

"I don' know what you said to him..."

"I said don't mention it."

They stood a few more minutes in silence, together but alone with their separate thoughts.

"It's getting cold. I should go in. Good Night, Allan."

"G'night, Marian." He watched her leave for her quarters then turned and headed towards Guy's suite.

Far below in the courtyard the Sheriff ordered the gate opened and rode out under the starry sky, still fast asleep...


	14. Gods, Daemons and the Lessons We Learn

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to klinzgirl on LiveJournal for the fabulous plot bunny I asked to borrow from her story _Simple_.  
**  
****Summary**: Much & Carter have departed Marseilles on a ship headed to the Holy Land. Carter decides that he should teach Much to read and to count, important skills for a squire and future knight of the kingdom. Much is still haunted by his experiences in the Holy Land when he served Robin. This story takes place during the Gang's adventures in 2x10, "Walkabout". It also borrows/corrupts a bit of dialogue from 2x12.

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, Much/Robin  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Slash, Angst, Romance

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Gods, Daemons and the Lessons that We Learn**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Much stood at the railing of the ship, his mind churning like the dark waters of the vast sea stretched out before him. Two days out from Marseilles and the sky was darkening under thunderheads that signalled storms and rough waters ahead. He'd made this journey twice with Robin. The first, when he was barely twenty years old, had started as a grand adventure. Following Robin had been exciting. It was a time when youthful exuberance meant seeking glory serving their King. Five years later they returned, scarred by war and all its horrors. Quieter. Wiser. No longer eager young men seeking greatness in war, only eager to seek a life at home.

Now home grew farther away as the ship sailed eastward. Back to war.

Much spied Carter come up from below deck. He pretended not to notice him because it was not yet time for the evening meal, which meant that his master was going to insist Much return to his lessons. Counting was enjoyable, a worthwhile pursuit that could be used on the field of battle as well as when he ran his own estate. Reading, on the other hand, was a chore. Much struggled with his letters and Carter could be a dogged teacher. If he did not love the man he would've turned back to England in a heartbeat.

England. Robin. The gang. He missed them. He'd thought of them more times than he knew how to count in the days since they'd left Nottingham. Worried about them, too. Thoughts of Allan's betrayal made him tremble with anger. He clenched his fist, pounding the ship's rail.

"Much," Carter said, planting a hand on his squire's arm as he drew up beside him, "what's wrong?"

Startled, Much jerked away from his master. His shoulders slumped. His head fell to his chest. He closed his eyes to pinch back tears that threatened to overwhelm him, then turned to Carter. "What if Allan tells Gisborne where the camp is? For all we know, they could all be dead." Much looked for reassurance in Carter's face. "Gisborne will know that Marian went to the forest. If Allan tells him that she's the Nightwatchman I'll kill him. I'll kill him. And if he hurts one hair on Djaq's head, well...and Will... Will was his best friend! How could he do this to us?"

Carter held Much at arm's length, wanting to put his arms around his lover and whisper that everything would be all right. But here, on the deck of the ship with dozens of eyes watching, he needed to be the knight and Much his squire. It hurt so much. "Much," he said quietly, "Robin is there. He'll take care of them all. He'll take care of Allan, too."

A sob caught in Much's throat and he could only nod. Robin would have a plan. He always... well, he usually did.

"Is there a problem, my lord?" a balding, silver-haired knight asked as he joined the two men at the rail.

"No, Sir William. All is well," Carter replied throwing an askance glance at Much. He squeezed his arm then reluctantly let it trail away.

William of Surrey stood next to Much, planting himself against the rail. He watched the ship's crew on the riggings with the eyes of a child. "Oh to be young," he said wistfully.

Carter followed his gaze. "Climbing trees perhaps, but I do not think I'd like climbing up there with the sea tossing the ship about like a child's toy."

Much's mood lightened for a moment. He realized that he knew so little of Carter's childhood and was suddenly curious to know if he'd climbed his share of trees as a boy.

"Have we met, sir? I am afraid I am at a disadvantage."

"I am Carter, my lord. And this is my squire Much."

The elderly knight tried not to smirk. "Isn't he a bit old to be a squire?"

Much nodded his head from side to side. He tossed a knowing look at Carter as another knight named Hugh of Runnymede joined the three men. The lanky young man towered over them. He was not much more than a boy with green eyes and brownish hair that reminded Much of an idealistic Robin when he was but fourteen or fifteen years.

"Much tried to tell me that before we began this journey. It's is a long story, Sir William, but Much was made a free man by his former master for his service in the Holy Land. He is loyal and true, someone with great principles and devotion. I could not ask for a better man to serve at my side."

Sir Hugh, who could not have been more than eighteen years old, grew excited. "You've been to the Holy Land, Squire Much? What was it like?"

Much remembered feeling like the young man when he and Robin first left Locksley. Bold, adventurous... and so naive about the horrors of war. "Bloody," he said quietly.

"Much and I both served King Richard," Carter added.

"What takes you back?" Sir William asked.

Knight and squire exchanged soft glances. Prince John's cronies were everywhere. They needed to be cautious. "My brother Thomas died there," Carter replied. "I go to say good-bye, to honour his memory."

"Will you fight the Turk again?" Hugh asked.

"If the King commands it," Carter replied.

"I will slay this godless enemy," Hugh said boldly.

Carter sighed. "Do not be so quick to war, Hugh. It is a dirty business." Carter noticed Much squirming and could only imagine what he might say. He cleared his throat. "And you should know that the Saracens are not godless. Their god is Allah." He saw Much nod that little sideways nod. One outburst averted. "The Pope may argue that Allah is no god. The Church may tell us it is heresy to say otherwise. I shall leave that up to our God to decide." Carter bowed. "You must excuse us, my lords. It is time for my squire's reading lesson."

"My lords," Much bowed as Carter turned and crossed the deck.

Much followed a few steps behind. "Master," he called, "must we do letters now? I want to know -- did you climb trees as a boy? I want to know about your childhood, more about your family!"

"And I think you are using that as an excuse to avoid your lessons!"

~~~O~~~

TREE. Carter wrote the letters on his slate. "Tell me these letters."

Frowning, Much studied the neatly written letters on his master's tablet. "I've not seen that word before. I thought you were going to teach me to spell your name today." Much held his own slate up. "See, I've gotten quite good at writing my own name. M-U-C-H, Much."

"Tell me the letters," Carter insisted, his head cocked, his eyes smiling.

"Oh, all right," Much sighed. His head ached as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. "T... R... E, another E."

"And the word is?"

"TTTTTTRRRRR! Gahh! I shall never get this." Much dropped his slate and threw down the sliver of chalk in frustration.

"Don't stop!" Carter said as he picked up the discarded nub. "You are doing quite well."

Much turned to his companion. Carter looked quite serious though Much still questioned himself. "What you must think of me. I can barely spell my own name and can only count till I run out of fingers and toes."

"What I think of you is you were forced to a life of servitude against your will and now you have a chance to be the man you choose to be." Carter placed his hand on the squire's shoulder. "Now try this." He picked up the slate with the former servant's name on it. "Spell out these letters," he said, placing the slate in Much's hands. Much went to rub out his name with his sleeve. "No, don't erase that part," the knight said, guiding him patiently. "We are going to add to it. Now, write the letter "I" then "S."

"I - S, is?" Much looked up at his lover's face meeting his satisfied grin.

"Yes, that's it. Now write W - I - S - E."

Much concentrated with great effort, favouring his left hand to draw the childish letters on the rough slate.

"Now say that one."

The squire looked at the board unsure. "WWWWWWWWIIIIIIISSSSSSSSEEEEE, Wise?"

"Now all of it together."

"MMMUUUCCCHHHH IIIIIIISSSS WWWWWIIIIISSSSSEEEEE?" His throat caught and he teared up as he finally said the words with confidence. "Much is wise." He looked up at his master, his lover and his teacher as tears spilled from his eyes and trailed down his cheeks. "My first sentence. Oh Carter, do you really think so?"

Carter reached over, took away the board and kissed his lover. 'Yes, I do and don't you ever forget it."

~~~O~~~

_The day had been brutal. Searing heat did nothing but add to the misery of seeing the blood that spilt that day. The screams of men being hacked and of bodies falling from the scaling ladders was worse than any nightmare. Knights fell as bolts sizzled into their ranks. Greek fire pierced their lines but the Crusaders fought as one as the King's orders drifted on the sultry air. Their siege machines battered the walls, pounding... pounding... pounding worse than the thunder of a summer storm. Much shivered against the memory, twisting and turning in his sleep, then cried out in terror.__  
__  
__Robin flew to Much's side, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Much, it's all right."__  
__  
__The manservant jerked awake suddenly, his eyes so wide with fright that even in the dim light of the tent Robin could see his pain. Their roles were reversed on this night. Too often Robin had the nightmares and Much would hold him tight. These were times when he wished he'd never asked Much to accompany him to the Holy Land. They would surely survive this war. Robin had no doubt about that. But what scars would they carry home?__  
__  
__"It's all right," the young lord repeated.__  
__  
__"They are so close, master," Much whispered above the din of the Saracen drums. The noise was incessant during the night. Their trumpets would blare, the chanting would begin. The Knights Templar and Hospitallers ignored it. Well, they claimed to ignore it. Much never could get used to it.__  
__  
__"No, they are behind the walls of the city, Much. They only try to disturb our sleep with their rabble." Robin pressed his hand to Much's cheek. "Do not worry. I'll keep you safe." Robin leaned closer and kissed his manservant's cheek. His lips trailed along the older man's jaw line then found his lips. Much moaned softly, welcoming Robin's warm and tender kiss. Robin's hand slid down his chest, under his tunic, warm flesh seeking his own. A calloused palm against his stomach made him tremble. Robin's fingers roamed across his body, every touch awakening new feelings and igniting his senses in ways that only Robin could. Much pulled his master close, cuffing his neck. He pressed the knight's lips apart and greedily let his tongue explore his mouth. Oh God how he wanted this.__  
__  
__Robin shifted to straddle his manservant. His hand moved across Much's braies, stroking the flesh hardening beneath him. Much buried a loud moan against Robin's shoulder, desperate to find life and love amidst the horrors that lay outside their tent. Grabbing Robin's arse, he pushed the knight's braies past his hips seeking more intimate contact. Robin released his aching member and his body met the young lord's throbbing cock. They climaxed all too soon, their hearts pounding... pounding... pounding in rhythm to the siege machines battering the enemy's stronghold. War would give them no respite and came crashing in on them. "Robin!"__  
__  
__A tear slid down Much's cheek._

Much awoke suddenly. His heart hammered against his chest. He wasn't in the Holy Land, wasn't with Robin. Carter lay next to him while a dozen or more knights slept in the bunks around them in the large, darkened cabin while the sea gently rocked the ship.

Carter placed his finger across Much's lips. "You called out his name." His pale blues eyes fixed on Much's face, sad and unsure.

"It was a dream--" Much whispered.

"You still love Robin." Carter said it matter-of-factly with no hint of jealousy.

Much would not lie to Carter. He was greatly relieved that the knight had such confidence in their relationship. He wished he'd been so straight thinking when it came to his own feelings watching Robin's courtship of Marian "I care about him. About all the gang."

"But especially Robin."

"What do you expect me to say? I spent my entire life at his side. We were more than brothers."

"You were his lover."

"Yes. In the Holy Land. And you knew that."

"And you would go back to his arms--"

"Carter, I loved... love Robin. I cannot just push those feelings aside. But what I felt--what I feel for him is nothing like the feelings I have when I'm with you."

Carter's fingers strayed to Much's face. "Tell me."

"Robin made me a free man but he never made me feel like more than a servant. He took me for granted. I loved him but that doesn't mean I don't hate him, too. There were two of us in the Holy Land. We were a team. Like brothers in arms. When we got back to Locksley--" Much shook his head and tears streamed across his cheeks. "He couldn't talk... never talked... He loved me in his own way but he never really got it... never saw how much he hurt me."

Carter kissed away Much's tears.

"But you... well, I am your squire... and you treat me like an equal. With you... even across a crowded deck... even though you can't show it, or say it, it's just... different. There's this feeling, like a yearning that won't go away."

Carter smiled. "That's just the sex."

"No, I don't think so."

"You don't like the sex?"

"That's not what I meant! Do you remember that night, standing there in the middle of that storm--"

"You're back to the sex," Carter said lightly.

"No! Hush!" Much admonished his lover gently. "What you said... that you knew.. you said you loved me. You held me in your arms."

"I said you were beautiful."

"Beautiful? Is that what you said?" Much laughed. "Silly, foolish, beautiful man. You are a bit crazy."

"Happens when you're in love."

"Does the sun shine a bit brighter?"

"And the moon... the stars."

"And the rain seems a bit softer."

"... and warmer."

Much traced Carter's face from temple, down his jaw line, around his lips. "But there's more to it. It's... it's... you care more about the other person than you care about yourself, and somehow... you just know--in everything he says, everything he does... every look... especially the ones no one else notices... and the subtle touches... somehow you just know that he feels the same way."

Carter brushed Much's lips with a tender kiss.

"And you know what else you feel?" Much said quietly.

"What?"

"Scared."

"Much--"

"Scared that it'll end all too soon and that you won't have said _I love you_ a thousand times."

"Only a thousand times?"

"Well you haven't taught me to count the numbers any higher than that."

"I'll have to fix that in tomorrow's lesson." He planted another kiss on Much's lips. "We should get some sleep."

"I love you, Carter."

"I love you, Much, a million times over."

"A million? That sounds like a lot."

"More than all the stars in the sky."

"That _is _a lot," he said as he pressed his cheek against Carter's chest. His hand found his lover's and their fingers twined together as Much drifted back to peaceful slumber.

Peering through the darkness Much listened to the snores of a dozen or more knights in the cabin. Carter was gone. Much missed the warmth of the knight's body pressed close during their middle of the night rendezvous. Intimacy had been nearly impossible to come by on the ship.

Something tickled Much's neck. Sleepily, he brushed his fingers along his skin. He swatted the itch a second time hoping it wasn't some little furry creature. He nearly shouted out when his hand grazed the offending intruder. Then a smile washed across his face as he wrapped his fingers around a dried stem of lavender. He brought Carter's little gift to his nose to breathe in the glorious scent and sighed.


	15. Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Sir Elton John for the title.  
**  
****Summary**: 3 very short vignettes that take place during 2x10, "Walkabout", shortly after Guy has asked Robin to help search for the Sheriff.

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian, Guy, Allan (mentions of Robin, Will)  
**Rating**: PG (implied slash)  
**Genre**: Gen, Hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: ****Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

They were waiting by the portcullis for him. His gang. She'd rolled her eyes when he goaded Guy only minutes before. He could be so cocky, so very cocky, at times. He could have ruined everything, acting like a child, demanding that Guy ask for help. She was surprised he hadn't insisted that Guy say 'please'.

God, she missed him. It had been more than a week since they'd spoken. That secret rendezvous in Sherwood had been far too brief. It seemed like months since she'd let him use her as a hostage and she'd returned to the castle. Her heart ached. She missed feeling his fingers twined through hers. Missed his kisses. Missed nights cuddled in his arms by the campfire. Would she ever watch the sun go down again with Robin at her side?

~~~O~~~

The world seemed to be crashing in around him. The sheriff was no where to be found. Prince John's army was beating a deadly path toward Nottingham. He'd let Marian convince him to send for Hood. And Hood, that cocky, smug bastard, had forced him to ask for his help. How fucking humiliating. He closed his eyes and fought back the urge to find something--someone--to hurt.

When he recalled Marian's soft touch on his arm, the pain became bearable.

If the sun had to go down on him today and take Nottingham with it, at least he had that memory.

~~~O~~~

How were they going to get out of this? Allan hurried through the streets, issuing orders, receiving search updates from the castle guards. None of it good.

He cringed when he spotted Guy on the castle stairs. The dark knight would not be happy. He steeled himself wondering where the blow would fall. Marian wasn't around to keep him safe this time. But he breathed a sigh of relief when Guy only ordered him to keep searching.

And then he spotted Will. All of a sudden it didn't seem to matter if Gis ever laid another hand on him. He'd remember only Will's strong hands caressing his body in quiet, secluded places in the forest.

As the sun trailed across the sky he knew that he had to tell Will how sorry he was. Had to tell him how much he loved him. The last thing he had to do on this earth before the sun went down was talk to Will.


	16. Racing Against the Sun

**Summary**: Robin's imagination works overtime as he races to find the sheriff. Set during 2x10, "Walkabout".

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin/Much, Carter/Much**  
Mentions: **Marian**  
Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: Angst, Hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Racing Against the Sun**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"Oh, it's good this. You and me back on a mission." Much kept up the brisk pace behind his master cheerily, "I mean, no offence against the others, but ahh, it's like the good old days, back in the Holy Land."

"Except we're not together!" Robin yelled without looking back. "You left with Carter a month ago. You're just a figment of my imagination."

Much paused in surprised shock. "A smaller man would be hurt," the former servant sputtered. "A lesser man would be wounded."

"And a ghost should know when to shut up!" Robin spat angrily. He had gotten used to the fact he was seeing his friend in his dreams but now seeing him while wide awake was worrisome. He didn't need this, not now that the sheriff was at large and Nottingham was about to be laid to the torch. "Look... these shoes. They were definitely made by the sheriff's smithy weren't they?"

"Yeah it's him." Much's ghost pondered, "Master you know that ring, the one Marian gave you, is it a new code?"

Robin bristled at the words. Not this, not now, even though he knew it was all in his head, he answered anyway. "No. I gave it to her when we were up in the tree."

The imaginary man laughed. "What? You...giving jewellery, that must have surprised her." Much caught up with Robin and face him with a forced smile. His glistening eyes already revealed what his heart suspected. "She probably thought you were going to propose."

"Yeah, I did..." Robin stated flatly, watching his friend's face turn serious. "And she said yes." The silence from even this pretend version of Much staring at him, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak, was stifling. He stammered, "Well this is when you were supposed to say congratula..." He dissolved into a chuckle as surprisingly warm and real arms embraced him.

"Congratulations," Much said, as he clutched his former master. They held each other for minutes, neither wanting to let go of the impossible moment between them. The ghost pushed Robin back at arm's length and wagged a finger at him. "She said yes?"

Robin nodded frowning slightly at the look on his friend's face. "Yes she did."

Much's expression became almost one of sadness. "That's incredible."

"Only if we live to enjoy it."

"I'm not just a figment of your imagination, Master," Much pouted, searching his friend's eyes. "And even if I am, I still care about you."

Robin smiled and turned back to his mission. "I know you do. You don't know how much I've missed you." He laughed. "How much we've missed you. Now come on. He went this way. Come..." The archer turned around and found himself alone. He shook his head and continued down the path.

~~~O~~~

Robin had a brief respite from the thoughts of his friend, until he heard Much speak again.

"You know I was gettin' used to it, life as an heroic outlaw. Now Carter, the king and I will probably come back as heroes. You and Marian will be married, living in some grand old mansion. I just..."

"Well, well, well," Robin said mostly to himself, trying to ignore the voice in his head. Usually, he would have merely found Much's rambling comfortably annoying but tuning out someone who really wasn't there proved to be a bother. He looked up behind his shoulder. Sure enough his former servant's confused expression greeted him. "Look at these marks. They carry on this way. Come on." Robin started off again but turned to see the ghost of his friend looking incredulously at him. "Well?"

"Well, it's all gonna end! When I return there will be no gang, no 'us'."

Robin sighed and pointed at the sky angrily, "Tell it to the sun, Much! Look! It's racing across the sky and if we don't find the sheriff before sundown, everything will end! Me, Marian, our friends, there will be nothing left but scorched earth!" He glared at the imaginary man. "Is that the homecoming you want when you return from The Holy Land?"

Much's ghost shook his head sadly and they continued on.

Robin broke into a full run now trying to escape his over-active imagination almost as desperately as he was trying to find the sheriff. "Where is he going!" he muttered out loud.

Much continued incessantly in his head, "You know I was thinking, I might stay here when I return. I mean what with you Marian and..well you know."

"Much...look! I think we're gaining on him. These are fresh footprints," Robin said breathlessly, ignoring the imaginary man's rant.

"I could be a lone outlaw, 'The Sherwood Avenger' and Carter could be my sidekick." Much mused, "I would like that, me having a sidekick for once."

"Much, come here!" Robin said, forgetting his friend wasn't real. He pulled an arrow and loaded his bow, aiming it at a figure in black silk pyjamas.

"Yes! Only one man in Nottingham has on clothes like that. Oi!" the ghost called out to the strange man.

To Robin's surprise, the man responded by looking up at him. It wasn't the sheriff. "I don't believe it!" the archer turned and said to thin air. He remembered himself and spat angrily at the stranger, "Where did you get those clothes?"

"I traded them, fair and square for some good rags," the homeless man reasoned.

"You traded rags for silk pyjamas?" Imaginary Much started again. "I don't think so." Robin must have repeated the words out loud, as the man answered back.

"It's true. He was a little man, ugly. Said my rags would help him find important papers in the forest."

Much stared at the strange man. "Papers...?"

Robin turned to his imaginary friend. "That's The Pact! Come on!" He ran back toward camp.

The man watched sadly as the outlaw leader held a conversation with himself before he ran off. "And they call me crazy!" he mused to his own invisible friend as they continued their journey through the forest.

~~~O~~~

This version of Much was as sure footed as the original and it wasn't long before Robin heard the sound of his friend stumbling to the ground with a loud cry. He turned around to see Much fumbling to his knees. "Come on," he scolded, still not believing he was interacting so with his fantasies.

"No!" the ghost waved with his hand as he brushed himself off. "I'll only slow you down." He grabbed his knee and looked up. "Hey, don't worry about me."

Robin leaned down and offered his hand, "Hey...Much. I like worrying you!" He tugged at his imaginary friend's arm. "Now come on! Come..." To his horror the image of his friend looked up at him longingly then dissolved before his eyes. He looked remorsefully at the spot where his friend vanished. "I liked worrying about you." He shook his head and broke into a run again.

It wasn't long before Much's voice returned. "Robin! This doesn't make any sense! There's no way the sheriff will find our camp!" Much reasoned loudly behind him.

"He knows, Much! Somehow he knows!"

"But what if you're wrong?" the ghost spat. "I mean look at the sun! We are running out of time! We should go to Nottingham, rescue Will and Marian and whoever else we can!"

"No, Much! The sheriff is heading for the camp and finding him is the only way we can save anyone. I have no time to stand here and argue with a figment of my imagination!" He turned and continued on toward camp. He was surprised when he stopped hearing the footfalls of the ghost behind him. He somehow knew the vision of his friend would not come back to haunt him again that afternoon.

Robin continued down the path to camp. Real or not, it was going to be a very long day without Much. The archer continued racing against the sun. He knew somehow, some way he would bring back the sheriff and save Nottingham. But he wondered as he ran, without Much or Marian by his side, who would save his soul.

~~~O~~~

He stirred from the dream forgetting for a moment where he was. The sunlight, filtered through dense tree canopy, was replaced by ships timbers above his head.

Carter lay next to him in peaceful slumber. He turned in his sleep and his pale blond lashes fluttered open and he took in his squire's concerned expression. "What troubles my lover so late in the day?"

"I dreamed...about Sherwood... and Robin," Much pouted softly. "He said he asked Marian to marry him."

"Then it was a good dream," Carter supplied.

"It was a nightmare," Much responded shaking his head sadly. "The sheriff was missing and Prince John's man was threatening to torch Nottingham to the ground."

"Maybe you shouldn't have had the second helping of pickled pork at the captain's table," the knight chided.

"You jest but it was so real," the squire pondered as his friend held him.

"Go back to sleep, Much. Our turn at watch comes in a few hours." The crusader gently brought his lover's face to his own and kissed his pouting lips. He ran his fingers though Much's shorter hair and mused, "How did that get there?" He showed the squire the small leaf he found.

"Oh, that's odd," the former outlaw frowned. He held it up to the faint light, yawned, and placed the leaf next to him on the pillow. Before he drifted off back to slumberous adventures in the forest and the desert, Much looked at it and quietly muttered, "Good luck and God's speed, my friend."


	17. Amid a Crowd of Stars

**Summary**: Carter has a new lesson in store for Much. The title is taken from the last line of "When you are Old" by William Butler Yeats.

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Slash, Angst

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Amid a Crowd of Stars**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Much walked up the stairs, his breath catching on the night air. He looked out along the deck and toward the dark ocean. Carter was nowhere to be seen. He looked toward the latrines--perhaps he had gotten seasick or was suffering from bad food. His master seemed well before he fell asleep. The squire frowned as he frantically searched for his lover. He tried not to but his mind went there. He was almost in near panic. What if a rogue wave hit the ship? What if he fell overboard? What if...?

"Ahoy there!"

The familiar voice reached his ears, cutting his panic and making him smile in relief. But where was it coming from?

"Up here, Much!" Carter stifled a laugh as he held the lantern closer to his face.

"What, pray tell, are you doing up there, Master?"

Carter grinned, "Come on up and find out, my squire."

Much frowned at the rope ladder leading high up to the small bucket perched on the main mast. He was used to climbing trees in the forest but stayed away from crow's nests on ships. Deep water and high perches on a swaying ship did not bode well for him. Climbing in the dark was an added thrill he didn't welcome. "Could you not just come down, Master?"

Carter laughed warmly. "I would rather you come up."

Much groaned loudly, muttering to himself, "The things I do for this man." He started up the rope ladder then paused clutching the ropes when both the ship and his stomach lurched. When he could move again, he looked up at the expectant face of the man he loved and found new strength as he finished the journey.

Carter's strong hands gripped his biceps as he hoisted his squire into the crow's nest beside him. "Glad you could join me."

"Like I had a choice." Much started then looked out at the view around them. "Oh my!"

Only the light of the stars lit the ocean around them. The soft sound of the waves slapping the ship was the only noise that reached them and the only sensation of movement was the wind in the sails.

They were alone on top of the world and he felt familiar hands encircle his waist. He leaned into his lover's shoulder. "What happened to the crewman on watch?"

"He was grateful for the night off," the knight supplied as he snuggled in close.

"You intend to spend all night up here?" Much caught his lover's eyes questioningly in the starlight.

"No." Carter chuckled nuzzling his squire's neck, "I intend to spend all night up here with you."

Much smiled then turned his face to his lover's as their lips connected. "I thought we agreed it wasn't about the sex."

"Maybe I lied just a little," Carter parried back as his hands explored under the other man's tunic.

"Master, should we?" Much started to pull away. He wanted this and it had been so long since their last night at Poitiers. He longed for more that the few stolen touches they'd shared and the taste of Carter's lips was intoxicating.

"We have each other and the stars up here. Everyone else except the yeoman on the bridge is asleep." He looked down at the wheelhouse. "I think it is a safe bet he isn't looking up." Carter grinned wickedly, "Even if he did, I know yeoman Brooks. He would probably enjoy the show." He embraced his lover tighter as they both looked out across the vast expanse of dark sea and endless sky. "Besides I have an ulterior motive for having you up here."

"Oh you do?" Much puzzled in amusement at the fact that his master now had one hand splayed under his tunic and the other under the lacings of his leggings.

"No harm in doing two things at once, Squire," the knight tutted. "These are our lesson plan tonight," he nodded his head to the sky.

"The stars?"

"You will never be lost once you learn the stars, Much," Carter mused as he took in his lover's scent, nudging him closer. "They will always lead you home." He removed his hand from under his squire's tunic and pointed at the sky. "There, the north star, Polaris. Always a fixed point and the brightest star in the sky. Follow it and you will find your latitude."

Much had heard King Richard's court astrologer speak of the stars. At night the former servant would gaze at up them as Djaq would weave stories about the constellations for the gang. It had never garnered his attention this way before. He felt his lover's chest rise and fall against his back. "My friend Djaq mentioned they all have names."

"Yes, like that one there, Ursa Minor, Little bear. Polaris is the last star of its tail." Carter pointed to another group of stars. "There is its companion, Ursa Major, the great bear."

Much grinned fondly, "Sounds like Little John."

"Oh yes..." Carter smiled softly at his lover's musings, "I remember him."

Much smiled back. "And that one?" he pointed at another group.

Carter squinted at the direction of his squire's finger. "Andromeda, the chained lady."

"Like Djaq, when we found her," Much mused sadly. "Only then we thought she was a boy."

"And there... Libra, the scales... balance and justice." Carter wondered where his servant's mind really was going this evening. It wasn't anywhere near the ocean they were on now, of this he was sure.

"Will Scarlett." Much's voice took on a reverent tone as he spoke. "He is a fine young man, always so calm and reasoned. He could nigh build anything he sets his mind to."

Carter felt the sadness in his friend. "Last one. That one...there, Orion the Hunter, with his bow."

Much's voice trembled as he turned to the knight, "I don't have to say it, do I?"

Carter smiled at his lover and pulled him close against the breeze. "You miss them... I understand. Lesson over?"

"Just hold me," Much said quietly.

"Oh, I intend to do just that." Carter wrapped his arms protectively around his squire and held him as he cried. He waited for the moment of melancholy to pass, then pulled Much away and stared into his eyes. "We will see our friends again. I promise you."

Much looked away. "We shouldn't tempt fate." He levelled his eyes at the knight. "We are going off to war again, Carter. We can't afford to make promises we can't keep to each other."

Carter reassured him with a hand to his chin, "If I have to carry you through the desert on my back through the savage hordes, you will see England again."

"All right, but I will hold you to it!" Much mused as he turned again and leaned back in his lover's arms.

The knight's hand once again found its way under the lacings of Much's leggings as his other hand moved over sensitive nipples made firm in the night air.

The squire's breathing quickened thanks to Carter's talented hands. "I'm beginning to enjoy my education." His breath hitched as he spoke. He gently reached behind his back and fumbled at the lacings on Carter's leggings, determined to make his master's breathing as laboured as his own. Much's hand found its mark. He smiled as his master shuddered at his touch.

Carter tried to regain some composure as he quickened his own ministrations. "As I said squire, lesson plans are over for the evening. Time for break."

"Oh... is it now?" Much had his entire weight against his partner as he tried to focus on the stars above them. The heavens were about to bear silent witness to their love that evening.

"Yesss..." Carter hissed softly into his lover's hair, "You have no idea how much I love you."

Much smiled as his eyes glazed in the salt air. "More than all the stars in the heavens?"

Carter stifled a moan. "More than I could ever count in a lifetime, my love." The squire's attentions were taking effect and Carter was almost beyond coherent thought.

"Th-that's a lot." The squire brought his lips hungrily to his lover's. "Oh... Carter!" Much cried out his master's name as he was pushed over the edge, his vision suddenly adding new stars to the ones he was already looking at. He spilled over his lover's hand as the knight moaned softly in his ear. It took a while for both men to breathe quietly again and massive effort to stay upright on jellied knees against the constantly swaying ship.

There was little doubt in Carter's mind who would break the silence.

"If you taught me letters this way, my master, I might learn them faster," Much mused, turning in his lover's arms to face him. "And I might enjoy them more." The odd turn of his head was met with Carter's soft laughter as he kissed him.

"I would be frightened at the words we would come up with," the knight reasoned.

Much looked out at the sea and stars again. "How long is third watch?"

"Till dawn... ahh," Carter found himself turned around against his lover, who was now running his own hands under the knight's tunic and braies.

"We have to stay up all night?" Much frowned at the news as he nuzzled the crusader's neck.

Carter grinned slyly, plucking the purple frond from his partner's doublet and running it under his chin. "Don't think of it that way, my squire. We get to sleep in while the others are all on deck." He leaned his head back and echoed his friend's nod. "No one is to disturb a night watchman when he sleeps. Now, thanks to my brilliant plan, I intend to do that with my lover well into midday."

Much smirked as his hand once again found his partner's length, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations, and his eager mouth met his lover's. "Either way, I don't think we are going to get much rest today."

~~~O~~~

In the wheelhouse, the young yeoman sat back and enjoyed the show. He preferred being on graveyard shift. There was always something exciting going on in the crow's nest and tonight he really wasn't disappointed. He sat back with his foot braced against the large wheel in front of him and toasted the two lovers silently with his flask. "I really need to introduce myself properly to those guys," he mused as he watched the stars.


	18. Leaders Can Be Wrong

**Summary**: An extended conversation between John and Djaq as they deliver supplies while the others look for the Sheriff. Set during 2x10, "Walkabout".

**Characters/Pairings**: Little John, Djaq  
**Mentions:** Robin, Will, Much  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre**: Gen

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Leaders Can Be Wrong**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"I can't let people starve." Little John started collecting together the sacks of provisions for the villagers.

"And I won't go against Robin's orders."

"Why?"

"Because he's right - and he's our leader."

John picked up the last sack and handed it to her before moving off. "Leaders can be wrong."

She hurried after him. "But you were a leader yourself! Surely you know how important it is that your men follow orders, even if they don't agree with them! Robin is looking at a bigger picture."

He stopped and looked at her. "Djaq, when I gave orders they were always 'See him? Steal his stuff, try not to kill him' and nobody disagreed with them! It was _simple_! And then Robin showed up and things got more complicated but I believed him, believed we could make a difference and I started to feel better about myself, about what we were doing. But now he's thinking more and more like a noble again every day. He doesn't see Rose Watler and her twins in Nettlestone or Harold Corder in Clun - he sees 'The Poor'. These people all have names and families and they've come to rely on us. And I'm not letting any of them starve because Robin is trying to save everyone at once. If we find the Sheriff today what comfort is that to a mother who loses her child tomorrow because we missed a delivery she was counting on?"

Djaq put down her sack and put her hand on John's arm. He was breathing hard after his sudden outburst and his lips were a thin line of determination.

"John..."

He shrugged her hand away.

"Will would agree with me. He knows what our deliveries mean to these people."

"But Will is not here. He is in the castle, protecting Marian," _and I pray to Allah to protect him_, she thought to herself.

John paused, recognising her fear for Will's safety and mentally kicking himself for having brought up the young carpenter's name.

"Much would have agreed with me," he said, trying to take her mind away from Nottingham.

"He might... but he still would do whatever Robin said he should do because he is a soldier and knows to follow orders."

"You and I both know that's not why he did what Robin told him," John said.

"No," she admitted.

"Much would have at least made Robin think for a moment," John continued. "He kept him honest, made him think like a man, not a noble. I miss that. I miss him."

"I miss him as well. We all do. Robin most of all. I - I heard you talking to him when he was dreaming. Saw you together in the camp before we went to the cave."

John scowled, angered at being reminded how much he actually cared for Robin. He thought back to Robin's dream in the thunderstorm, holding him for hours as the rain and Robin's tears soaked them both. "He's like me - doesn't realise what a good thing he has till it's gone forever."

"Forever? You don't think Much will come back?" Djaq looked alarmed by the possibility.

"I don't know. Why would he? He is Carter's squire now and if God keeps him safe in the Holy Land he will return as Earl of Bonchurch and good luck to the lad. We never let him know how much we liked him and needed him. Why would he return to Sherwood?"

"I suppose you are right."

"Still, it would be nice to hear him again. The camp is too quiet without him. When Robin is with Marian and you are with Will I am left with nothing but my thoughts and they give me no comfort. The hours always seemed shorter when Much was there and we would spar or cook or I would listen to his tales of the Holy Land..." John's voice drifted off and he frowned, annoyed at having revealed so much of himself.

"You sound like an old married couple!" Djaq laughed but suddenly realised how lonely John must be with Much gone.

"Less of the _old_, thank you." He picked up the sack and handed it to her again. "Come on. Let's make these deliveries. We can ask about the Sheriff at the same time."


	19. I Never

**Summary**: Carter and Much plan the perfect evening together in Cyprus before returning to war. Fate and a new friend have other plans. Takes place around the same time as, but separate from, the events of 2x10, "Walkabout".

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much/OC  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre: **Angst, Explicit Slash

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: I Never...**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

It had been a long time since they had seen dry land. Their legs were still wobbly as the men departed. The crew left for shore leave and soldiers headed to war and to their destinies. Cyprus was the gateway to all of it. Many a young man would remember his first night with a woman there. For some unfortunate young soldiers, it would also be their last.

Much took in everything around him. It had only been a a couple of years since he had crossed the ocean to this place under less pleasant circumstances but this time it was different. He was a free man with coin in his pockets and an entire bazaar before him. He looked at Carter as he inspected every item excitedly. Carter assured the former servant he could spend his money as he liked but stayed close to make sure the shop keepers didn't take advantage of him.

Much was proud of his new counting skills but still would nod at his new master making sure the amount was correct. He soon had a nice stash of exotic fruits and spices in his pack and hummed happily as he stared at the brightly coloured fabrics the locals wore. Carter caught his squire by the sleeve when two very attractive girls surrounded him, dancing in colourful scarves. Much was entranced by the lovely music and the even more lovely women. When Carter came over and rattled off a few sentences in the native dialect to them, they looked at him, smiled and danced away.

"What did you do that for?" Much looked at his partner, large eyed. "They seemed to like me and they were very pretty."

"And more expensive than the coin in your pocket they were trying to take my friend," Carter grinned.

"You mean they were?"

"For hire? Yes," Carter mused. "As I said on the ship, anything can be had in Cyprus... for a price."

"Oh," the squire paused, "I didn't know that. Robin always took care of the things we needed when we came here." He blushed with embarrassment at his lack of experience.

Carter mercifully changed the subject. "I think we've done enough shopping for the day. Time for a drink."

~~~O~~~

The small tavern was dark, crowded, and definitely meant for tourists. The room was a cross-section of humanity. Signs on the walls in many languages told the men what to order. Men and women of every skin colour looked at them as the two soldiers made their way to the bar. "I don't know about this. You know I don't handle spirits well, Master," Much worried as Carter muttered strange words to the stout barkeep.

"Yes, but I like the way you handle me after you've had the spirits," Carter teased, making his companion blush crimson. Much sputtered at the remark making Carter place his hands on the young squire's shoulders. "It was a joke, Much. You shouldn't take everything so seriously. He looked around then whispered in his lovers ear, "But I do intend to have my way with you after we get our fill and get back to the room."

Much smiled and nodded. To be alone again and not have to sneak coy glances and hidden touches for fear of getting caught would be lovely and he felt a knot of anticipation in his stomach. They had a lot of time to make up for and a long time ahead where they would have to carefully keep their love secret again. If this was to be their last night of true intimacy before they could go home to England, he intended to make full use of it.

Fate had other ideas and came with a loud crash and yelling.

"My word!" Much exclaimed as he grabbed his drink protectively with one hand while the other flew to his sword. Three men behind them were looming over another and it wasn't looking good for the fourth man at all.

To his horror, Carter broke in between the men and spoke in the limited words he knew of clipped Cypriot Greek. "Why are you attacking this man?"

The larger of the two men, arms crossed, spoke back, "He is a friend of yours? He cheats at lots! We will show him what happens to cheaters! You, too, if you are his friend!"

Carter immediately fired back, "He is not a friend but I will not let you harm him either. We are men, let us settle this without bloodshed." He turned to the young man behind him. "Yeoman Brooks, what did you do?"

"Well... just trying to earn a little extra..." the dark haired man stammered.

"Did you try to cheat them?" Carter broke in impatiently.

Brooks nodded at the men as they stared him down.

Much knew that look. It reminded him of a certain outlaw he used to know back home and it was nothing but trouble. "My advice, Sir, would be to give back the money and leave... now."

The young man grinned widely, reached into his tunic, and tossed the sack of coins on the table. "I was getting bored anyway."

He turned and left the tavern calmly to the surprise of the other men around him. Much and Carter followed after being assured the men were happy with just having their losses returned.

~~~O~~~

"Excuse me, but we just saved your life!" Much called to the cheeky yeoman, wide-eyed.

"And?" Brooks spat back at the two soldiers.

"Well, a little gratitude..." Much started.

"I said thanks!" The young yeoman turned and grinned. "What do you want me to do... kiss you?" He eyed the squire up and down and winked. "Although I don't think that would be a problem, handsome."

Much was too astonished to speak. So Carter did for him. "Such fresh words you use with my squire, Brooks. Remember yourself."

"I do remember!" The cocky seaman looked over his shoulder. He turned with a big grin and offered his hand, "Yeoman Charles P. Brooks. At your service. Forgive me, Squire Much." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "I didn't recognize you at first with your braies pulled up."

Much sputtered and turned as red as the hennaed hair of the women in the square, as his Master gripped his arm. "Breathe Much... just breathe." Carter calmed his friend as he shot a glare at the cheeky sailor.

"But he--and you!" Much was reduced to wide-eyed disbelief.

"Everything's fine." Carter assured him. "We will see yeoman Brooks to his room to make sure he gets there safely then we will be off to our own room."

"Awww, lovebirds," Brooks smiled. He turned and shot the two men a slightly embarrassed glance. "Yeah, about the room. I kinda don't have one. I lost all my money and then you guys intervened before I could cheat it back."

Much rolled his eyes at the cheekiness. "Seems I recall you were about to be ganged up on. It's like being at the Trip with Allan A'Dale all over again."

"Then we can see you back to the ship?" Carter reasoned.

"Nahh. I have a better idea!" The young man pulled a bottle of fine wine from under his cloak. "You have a room, no?"

The two soldiers looked at each other, Much's stern stare meeting Carter's kindly one.

"Don't think it master. We had plans!"

"We still do. I'm sure Brooks will quietly sip his wine then fall into a sound sleep." Carter shot the young seaman an amused look.

"Not anything I haven't seen in the crow's nest before anyway," Brooks snorted, meeting Much's shocked round eyes.

~~~O~~~

The room was small and sparsely furnished for the price but comfortable. "Nice room. Much nicer than I would have afforded on the wages I left the ship with," the sailor mused. "The king pays his knights well."

"Well enough," Carter mused as he took off his scabbard and propped it next to the small bed.

Much did the same and turned to the young sailor. "I trust the extra blankets will be enough for you?" The squire was still slightly annoyed he and Carter would have company on what should have been their 'perfect evening together'.

"It's fine," Brooks grinned. "I have everything I need, good wine, good friends and a warm place to sleep." He uncorked the bottle, took a swig then turned it to his new found companions. He was even more rakishly handsome in the dim light of the single candle in the room. His delicate but strong features, fine cheekbones, and light brown hair were so similar to Robin's, yet his frame was more sturdy. He was a nice looking man, not as attractive as his lover, but Much surmised he wouldn't kick him out of a bunk either.

"No, I shouldn't," Much stammered. "Spirits and I don't really agree."

"All the more reason to commune with them," Brooks grinned as he palmed the neck of the bottle into the squires hand.

Much took a cautious sip and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He was already feeling the warm effects from the watered down wine they were served earlier but this was the full draft. Its rich flavour washed over his tongue and warmed his insides as his lover's hands suddenly snaked around his middle. "Master!" he yelled. "Not now! Here in front of him."

"It's all right Much," Carter's voice silkily purred in his ear. "As I said, Brooks doesn't mind."

"Not at all," the young man replied taking the bottle from the former manservant's hand and sipping the strong liquid. He brought his lips to Much's and silenced his pout with a deep, wine-flavoured kiss.

Much had only tasted Carter's lips for so long. His mind shut down at the sensation of kissing another man. He turned to face his lover and found his lips covered again.

Carter smiled as he took the bottle from the yeoman's hand. "I think this evening just got a lot more interesting."

Much still wasn't sure what was going on and his head buzzed with the intoxication of liquor and the sensation of more than one set of hands under his clothes as his lovers undressed him.

Carter turned the squire in his arms. "We don't have to do this. I will understand if you want me and me alone."

Much nodded. "I do want only you but for tonight, we will do what you want as long as I have you when it's over."

"As you wish, my love," Carter smiled as he held his partner.

"I'll be gentle with both of you." Brooks hugged them both as all three men stood naked and kissed each other. They collapsed on the small bed and quickly became a tangle of hands and mouths. Much reeled at the different sensations of the two men. Carter's long, smooth, graceful limbs encircled him compared to the shorter more muscular ones of the stranger that now caressed him. He lost track of who he was kissing as both men took their turn ravishing first his pouting lips then each others. Brooks looked up at Much studying his expression as he took the squire's length gently in his mouth and Carter whispered lusty words in his ear. Carter stood and guided his own length into Much's mouth, hissing at the unexpected heat.

The three men became a machine of perpetual motion as they brought each other to closeness. Much had never felt such sensation as he was brought over the edge into the yeoman's eager throat, feeling his lover spill into him at the same time. His muffled moans were joined by his lover's as Carter stifled his own sounds of lust above him. Only Brooks remained silent as the two men collapsed on top of him, satiated.

How the game started, neither of the three men could recall. In truth, it started with an innocent comment Much made, as soon as he caught his breath. "Well! I've never done that before!"

"Oh, what _have _you done before?" Brooks smiled wickedly, laying back on the blankets as Carter cradled his naked manservant protectively in his arms.

"Well I've..." Much stopped from embarrassment. It was true, he was limited in his sexual experiences. "I don't think decent gentlemen should talk of such things."

"Well considering what we just did, my dear Much..." Brooks raised up and kissed the blushing squire, "I think it is safe to say there are no 'decent' men here." Brooks shook the half empty bottle of wine. "We will make a game of it. If you haven't done it, you have to sip." He started the game. "I've never slept with a woman." The men looked around the room at each other and Much made a face. His cheeks glowed as he nervously took a quick gulp of the strong drink.

"You never told me that," Carter whispered against his brow. "I always assumed with you at Locksley, then in the Holy land that you would..."

"Robin always came first," Much interrupted. He mused sadly, "I almost did. Her name was Eve." He misted slightly at the memory of the young maiden. "She was sweet, clever, and oh so..." He changed the subject trying to put the sad memory of what was never to be out of his mind. "How about you?"

For the first time since Sherwood, his master's brow creased in anger. "I don't want to say." He then softened. "It's a bad memory with someone I regretted."

Much accepted his lover's cryptic answer with a nod. The expression of distaste on his master's face said it all. "And yourself, Yeoman Brooks?"

"More than there are sips in that bottle," he winked. "Your turn, Much."

The squire pondered carefully. He still had so many questions about Carter's past but it was clear the knight did not want to mention it. He smiled. "I never loved someone as much as I do now." Carter gladly took the bottle and sipped after him.

Brooks did the same and looked at his new friends sheepishly. "I have a confession. I kinda got myself into trouble just so I could meet up with you guys. I figured you would come to my aid and I could thank you properly." He sobered and looked away. "It gets so lonely on those long voyages. Not many people on board I can call a friend and even fewer I can be so honest with." He turned to them. "If you want me to leave, I'll understand."

Carter shook his head. "No harm done and we are clearly enjoying your company." He glanced sideways at his squire's frown. "You might have some extra apologising to do to him though." He looked out the window at the ocean. "Yes, the sea is a lonely place. I always wanted to make love on a beach. I've never made love on a beach before." He grinned and took the bottle.

Much took it from him smiling. "Why am I so surprised?" He got cuffed around the ear for the cheekiness and pulled in for a long kiss from Carter.

Brooks held his hand up at the offered bottle and mused, "Just be careful not to get sand in places you'll wish you hadn't later." He smiled sadly. "I hope you two find your beach and grow old together. You do make a lovely couple."

Much gazed at Brooks and decided to break the melancholy. He thought for a second. A wicked grin crossed his face. "I've never had two lovers work me over at the same time before."

"But you just..." Carter smiled at his squire's cleverness. His amused expression was met by a defiant one from the sailor. He grinned as he took the bottle. "Well I guess it's time to fix that."

~~~O~~~

Carter woke up sore in places he didn't know even existed. Much was curled up in a ball of warmth in front of him but what disturbed him was the chill to his back. He sat bolt upright and looked around the room. The pile of blankets was neatly folded and no other soul was there besides himself and his lover. His heart sank for a moment as he remembered his money bag. He grabbed the small cloth purse from his belt and opened it. To the knight's surprise the coins were still there save for a couple. Inside was a small curled up piece of parchment. He walked over to the dwindling candle and read the surprisingly elegant writing.

_My Dear Lord Carter,__  
__  
__I do hope you don't mind, I helped myself to a couple of your coins on the way out... just in case. I also finished the last of the wine, I'm afraid. You see I had to answer my own 'I never'. I've never loved a man so deeply before and now I find myself in the enviable situation of loving two of the finest men I've ever met. Seeing you both together, after so many nights admiring you from afar, has made me realize that maybe two men can be more than friends. I now fondly look forward to the day I meet my own 'squire'. Speaking of which, tell Much I hope he can forgive me for sharing your private evening with him and that I am jealous as hell that, the good Lord or Allah willing, he gets to spend eternity with the man I only got to have a short time with. I say the same to you about him as well.__  
__  
__Listen to me -- enough talk. The light is growing dim, the night short and I have a long way to go. I WILL see you again and repay yours and Much's kindness threefold. Until then you knights are in my thoughts, prayers and most important, my heart. Oh, I don't think anyone else needs to read this but you two so be a pal and burn this if you will. Thanks and love always, boys.__  
__  
__Yeoman Charles Percival Brooks__  
_  
Carter smiled in the fading candlelight as he held the parchment up to the flame and watched it get consumed.

Much stirred across the room and reached his hand over to the empty space next to him. He frowned in his sleep when it met with nothing. "Carter?"

"I'm here, Much," Carter mused as he walked back over to his lover. He climbed back into bed and chuckled softly as his squire flung his arm protectively around him.

"Where's Brooks?" Much asked sleepily, his head now nestled in the nape of Carter's neck.

"Oh, gone back to his ship I suppose," Carter thought as he absently stroked his lover's hair with his fingers.

"Good. I have you all to myself again," Much smiled.

"At least till it is time for us to go as well," Carter answered. "And for the rest of your life if you like." He smiled when he was answered by familiar soft snores. He kissed his lover's brow. "I'm not going anywhere without you."


	20. No Going Back

**Summary**: Prince John's army is headed to Nottingham and Guy thinks he may have another way to convince Jasper not to burn down the town; Allan desperately wants Will's forgiveness; and Marian is being her usual stubborn self!

**Characters/Pairings**: Will, Allan, Marian, Guy, Sir Jasper  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre: **Angst, Slash (mostly implied)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: No Going Back**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Will hurried toward the armoury hoping to find Marian. He fingered the ring in the pocket of his tunic. Time was running out. If he wanted to keep his promise to Robin he needed to get the lady out of the castle as soon as possible.

Crossing the courtyard, he spotted Allan. A punch in the gut wouldn't have been worse. He'd already had one run in with him today. He had no desire to speak to the traitor again but Allan headed straight toward him. He handed Will a sword and held his tongue as Will barrelled past him, his angry glare as sharp as any dagger.

Will noticed Marian across the ward and approached her. Forcing all thoughts of Allan from his mind, his expression softened.

"Will - any word from Robin?" she asked.

Will shook his head. "But I know he will die before he stops looking."

"Today that's not good enough, Will."

"Marian, the one person who can't die is you."

She smiled at Will. "I think Djaq might have some thoughts on that," she replied lightly, delighted when a reddish blush painted his cheeks. "But there's no way out."

Will held out the engagement ring Robin had given him for safekeeping. "I promised Robin you'd be safe."

Marian gazed longingly at the jewel-encrusted ring. A life with Robin seemed like a dream beyond her reach at this moment. In her heart she knew that he would do everything he could to bring the Sheriff back to Nottingham. "I won't leave the castle, Will," she said, holding the ring as if it were the last piece of Robin she might ever have. "These people need our help."

"I'll find a way out."

Allan barged right into his friends' conversation, determined to get Will to listen to him. "I don't think there is a way out. There's 'undreds of them out there, locked us in tight." His eyes met Will's. "Looks like we're brothers in arms again."

Will scoffed. "Get away from me, Allan."

"Will!" Marian exclaimed.

Will's brow furrowed and he couldn't stop the anger meant for Allan but thrown Marian's way. "Stay out of this, Marian."

"I said I was sorry, Will," Allan told the carpenter. "I never meant those things I said."

"I told you it's too late, Allan. You deliberately betrayed us. There's no going back." A pained look washed across Will's face. "Djaq helped you. You don't know how hard it was for me to watch her help you, especially after what you said... what you did. It's hard to forget those things."

Marian looked from the carpenter to Sir Guy's man and back. "What are you talking about, Will?"

Will clenched his fist. As much as he loathed Allan, he couldn't bring himself to tell Marian, let alone Djaq, about the abuse--the rape--he'd suffered at Allan's hands. His heart pounded when he thought about how easily Djaq had forgiven Allan's betrayal of the gang. Would she feel the same way if she'd known the entire truth? He let his gaze fall to Marian's eyes. "I don't think you want to know."

Marian glared impatiently at the two men. "Oh grow up, both of you!"

Allan reached for Will. "I'll make it up to you--"

"How can you?" Will shouted, shoving Allan's hand away.

Allan held his palms up. "You know I'm here watching Marian, protecting the gang and Robin," he replied.

"He's right, Will," Marian said. "Allan hasn't told Guy where the camp is--"

"It's only a matter of time," the carpenter shot back icily.

Allan ignored the tone in Will's voice. "Not bein' funny... but seein' as how we're all about to die--"

"We need to get Marian out of here," Will said emphatically.

"I won't abandon these people," Marian retorted in an equally vehement tone.

The sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath caused them all to start. The tip of Gisborne's blade was at Will's neck. "What is this one doing here? One of Hood's gang?"

"Guy!" Marian half-shouted. She tugged at Gisborne's arm to pull the blade away from Will. "Leave him alone!"

"He's tryin' to help, Sir Guy," Allan told the dark knight. "Tryin' to convince Marian to leave."

"Hold there," Guy said. He cuffed Will's neck, grasped a handful of hair and pulled his head back. He recognized Will as the outlaw who had been captured in Locksley when they'd been searching the village for Lardner's ring. "You're supposed to be dead. You were in the dungeon--"

"Guy, we don't have time for this," Marian snapped.

"Bring him!" The black knight shoved Will toward Allan. "Perhaps Sir Jasper will hold the army back if we promise him one of Hood's men. We'll use him as bait and when Hood comes to save him, we turn them both over to Prince John."

"Hood is trying to save all of us," Marian reminded him.

"Well he's nowhere around now, is he?" Gisborne hissed. "He's saving his own hide, Marian. We'll never see him again."

"That's crazy, Gu-- Sir Guy! Robin would never desert Marian!" Allan said.

Guy's face turned a bloody shade of red. His glare was as hot as the torches that the Prince's troops would use to destroy Nottingham.

Marian scoffed. "He left me tied up in a tree, Allan. He used me as a hostage!" she reminded him. She returned Guy's glare with one as fierce as his own. "We need every able-bodied man to fend off Prince John's army."

"Not this one," Guy sneered, roughly shoving Will toward Allan. "Tie him up. Put him in the dungeon. And then find Sir Jasper."

"Guy--"

"Enough, Marian. Please," he said, "meet me in the Great Hall." Guy glared at Allan. "You heard me, Allan."

"Allan--"

Allan shrugged. His hands were tied. He couldn't help anyone if he went against Guy's orders now. "Sorry, Marian."

Marian stormed back into the castle. Guy watched her for a moment. He desperately wanted to speak with this woman who still held sway over him but decided he'd best let her cool down. This new plan might come to naught. He was determined to ask her to marry him, then the two of them could leave Nottingham under Sir Jasper's protection.

Allan guided Will away from the courtyard. "Don't worry, Will. I'll make sure you can get away. And somehow I'll get word to Robin about this trap."

"Don't do me any favours, traitor," Will spat. "If me being turned over to Sir Jasper stops the attack on Nottingham, that's all that matters. I just--" he choked on his words, unable--or unwilling--to share his thoughts with his former friend.

Allan knew Will's heart and mind as well as he knew his own. He was thinking about Djaq. "We'll find you." He led the carpenter into the castle through a darkened corridor toward the dungeons. Shoving Will against the cold stone wall, he looked into his eyes. "_I'll_ find you," he said quietly as he brought his lips to Will's and kissed him gently. Tears wet his cheeks as Will responded with a need that reminded Allan of the old days back at camp. Pressed tightly against the man he wanted to call more-than-friend, Allan kissed him a second time. It was rougher than the first... desperate and greedy.

"Stop... stop!" Will suddenly cried out, turning his face away from Allan's. His scars ran too deep, dark and ugly like the dungeon where Allan had taken him. The remorse in Allan's blue eyes, the tears they shared for love lost--neither could erase his pain and anger.

Allan's breath rattled in his throat. He stepped away from Will and nodded sadly to his former lover, then gently guided him away.

~~~O~~~

Perched on his horse, Guy stared down Sir Jasper. Shock troops stood ready to descend on Nottingham. Their torches lit the night burning like the flames of hell. Marian had refused his marriage proposal. Jasper just laughed when he suggested luring Hood to Nottingham and turning him over to Prince John. Things were not going well.

"And the woman, Marian. Is she leaving with you?" Sir Jasper smirked. _  
__  
__Damn you, Marian, you drive me insane! We could leave right now if you weren't so stubborn.__  
_  
"She will not abandon Nottingham." He'd known all along this would be her decision, so he'd already ordered the carpenter's release. One more able-bodied man wouldn't change the outcome of this fight, but it would make Marian happy. He could picture the smile on her face when Scarlett appeared in the Great Hall. It would be a smile meant for him. Guy shook his head. _I must be deluding myself._

Sir Jasper chuckled. He pitied the man before him. "Imbecile."

Perhaps Prince John's lackey was right. But for the moment, Guy preferred to stay in his own fantasy world. "And without her," he added, "my world may as well turn to ash."

Guy burst back into the Great Hall shouting Marian's name at the top of his lungs. She looked up from the crowded room and her smile lit his heart afire. If he were to die today, he'd remember that smile and know that he'd done something good for once in his life. "To arms!" he cried.

They could hear Allan sounding the alarm outside. Marian stood beside him, her hand on his arm. She was more delicate that he remembered, almost frightened, but with a resolve he couldn't help but admire. It would be over soon. "Marry me now, and make it the last thing we do." He looked into her eyes. "Let's steal that from them at least."

Marian's eyes looked moist. Her lips turned up in a small smile but she did not respond.

"Gisborne!" The familiar voice echoed up from the streets and into the Great Hall. The Sheriff was back. Nottingham was saved from a scorching.

Guy felt Marian's hand trail away from his arm. The woman who'd stood by his side a moment before now seemed cold and distant.

There would be no fire tonight except for the one that burned in Guy's soul.


	21. By His Side

**Summary**: Carter and Much have arrived in Acre and are gathering provisions in the marketplace before they head south to join the King's forces. There are lessons to practice and things to learn at the market... Takes place in Palestine but set during events of 2x10, "Walkabout" and briefly references things we learn in series 3!

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre: **Angst, Slash

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: By His Side**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Much tried to convince himself that coming back to Acre would not be difficult. Carter would be by his side. He was Carter's squire. A knight in training. This journey could not be more different than years before when he'd first looked upon this land. He knew what they faced this time and it had little to do with adventure or glory.

_Dark smoke rising from the outskirts of the city... siege engines pounding the city walls… the screams... the incessant moans and cries of the wounded, of women and children... the drums... oh, the drums... the chanting--Allah Akbar... and the trumpets wailing...__  
_  
Much shivered against the memories and for a brief moment could not find his breath. Carter's hand brushed his. Though they'd not crossed paths back then, their experiences were similar. Their scars were as real as the sun that was beginning to dip lower in the afternoon sky, as real as Carter's soft touch that gave Much the strength to face this place all over again. His heartbeat calmed. If Carter hadn't been there, hadn't sent an encouraging smile his way, he wondered if he would have turned back.

Acre's marketplace was busy. Not as vibrant as Cyprus, the city still showed obvious signs that it was recuperating from the awful siege that Much remembered so vividly. Acre was firmly in Crusader hands. Many of the locals were ambivalent about the presence of the French, the Pisans, the Genoese, and other soldiers from countries to the west. Carter's proficiency in Arabic brought them less scornful looks from shopkeepers. It would be easy to procure the provisions they'd need for the King's camp.

Carter looked worriedly at Much. His squire was quieter than usual, especially when they were surrounded by the colourful sights of a crowded market and the smells of fresh roasted meats and vegetables from vendors lined up and down the road. Carter tried to draw him out. "You're thinking of the last time you were here. Of Robin?"

"I don't think I can forget." Much felt like he'd repeated those words a thousand times since he'd met Carter. And Carter never shied away from talking about it.

"Good and bad times, they're part of who we are."

Much agreed though sometimes it was hard to remember anything good about his prior service in Palestine. He was quiet for a couple of minutes before he announced, "Kebabs."

"What?"

"Kebabs," the squire repeated, pointing toward skewered meats cooking over an open fire at one shop. "That's the good part."

Carter laughed so hard he started to choke. Much pounded his back. "Are you all right, Master?" But before Carter could respond, he asked, "Did you know that market day was on Wednesdays in Nottingham? When Robin and I were children, we'd play games in the marketplace. I think we drove his father mad."

"Mad?"

"We'd run through the streets, well, like children." Much's eyes lit up at those good memories. "We chased the chickens, or get muddied up in puddles. Robin would snatch fruit for us and run. A cart might get bumped and potatoes or eggs would spill to the ground. The shopkeepers would grab us both by the ears and drag us to Robin's father."

"What happened?"

"I picked up the mess while Robin watched."

Carter looked at him incredulously. "Robin did not help you?"

Much laughed. "No. Master Malcolm knew that it would be harder for Robin to watch me take the punishment because of his foolishness!"

"An interesting way to teach a lesson," Carter replied. "Did it help?"

"No, 'course not!" Much remembered the mischief they'd gotten into fondly. Though Robin claimed he never went looking for trouble, Much wasn't so sure that was true. "I didn't mind really... I mean, that was the life I had. The life I accepted. It was my place. The master was strict but he treated me fairly. He was a good man."

Carter's thoughts drifted to his own childhood. He'd loved his own father dearly and suddenly found himself missing the stories by the hearth, hunting trips, excursions to Trevena, and the business trips to London, Aquitaine, and Bavaria, places that, to a young boy, seemed exotic. "Were they close? Robin and his father?"

"Very close," Much replied, recalling how he used to pray and ask God's forgiveness for being envious of Robin's relationship with Master Malcolm. He could barely remember his own father. "The master would be proud of the man Robin has become."

"What happened to him?"

Much stared past Carter, surprised the memory still tore at his heart all these years later. "He died in a fire."

Carter shivered. He hadn't expected to hear that the lord had died such a violent death. "That must have been awful for Robin. He was lucky to have you by his side."

Much remembered the nights he held Robin in his arms. The young master stood like a rock when he visited his peasants. They admired his strength. Only Thornton and a few of the house servants knew the tears he cried. Only a few saw how much he missed his father. But he held that close, and rarely talked to Much about his feelings. Just like after Acre. That was Robin. "He needed a friend then," Much said quietly, "Like I need one now."

The courage of an army of tens of thousands was in the smile that Carter cast Much's way. "I'll be here always."

If they hadn't been in the middle of the marketplace, Much would've kissed the knight right there and then. Might've done more than that. Sighing that thought away, he realized that talk of Robin's father reminded him how little he knew about his lover. "Carter, what of your family?" Much asked.

Carter tensed and his smile wilted. "It's getting late. We'll have a long day tomorrow. We need to finish up here."

"What's wrong?" Much asked, eyeing the knight suspiciously. Whilst his lover freely spoke on nearly every subject under the sun, he continued to keep this one part of his life hidden. His brother's death had been painful but there was something more that pervaded Carter's thoughts.

Carter shook his head. "Nothing. Let's continue your lesson."

Much hesitated a moment but the look in Carter's eyes told him he'd get nothing more from him. He'd be patient. His lover had darker secrets that he wasn't ready to share... like the regrets about some woman from his past that he'd mentioned during Brooks' drinking game in Cyprus. "What's it to be today?" he asked as they wandered down the street.

"The market."

"We did the market in Cyprus," Much pouted. "I've been to market hundreds, no, thousands of times. What else is there to learn here?"

Carter was back to his old self. He grinned mischievously. "You've been to market with your master's list when the shopkeeper tallied the bill and sent it back to the manor."

"That's true. But I bought the fruits and spices in Cyprus, counting out the coin myself," Much stated proudly.

"That you did," Carter nodded. "But today you will bargain with the vendor as well as use your counting skills to pay for the goods we buy. In Arabic."

"Arabic? But all I know is Assalamu--"

Carter held up his hand to quiet his pupil. "Wahid." Carter paused, waiting for Much to repeat the word. "It means 'one'. Wahid. Go on. Say it."

Much took in a deep breath. "Wahid."

"Ithnain."

"Two?"

The knight nodded. "Ithnain."

Much repeated the word and Carter continued the lesson until he got to twenty. They reviewed the numbers again until Much could recite them backwards and forwards.

Carter grabbed a royal blue tunic with gold trim and tossed it at Much. "This would suit you well. What does the sign say?"

"Five--"

Carter cleared his throat.

"I know. In Arabic," Much said. "Khamsa."

"Is it worth that?" Carter asked.

Much nodded his head from side to side then tipped it toward the shopkeeper. "Arbaa," he countered, pointing toward the tunic draped over his left arm.

"Ibn sharm--"

"Eh, eh, eh," Carter interrupted. _It's a fair price,_ he told the vendor.

The man grinned when he heard Carter's Arabic. "Sahiiye," he replied, his gaze turned back toward Much. "Arbaa."

"Count out your coins and pay the shopkeeper, Much."

"Are you certain, Master? That's a colour worn by royals. I don't think the King would find it appro--appropriate--"

Carter cocked his head at Much. "Then wear it in my presence only, Much. Or not." His eyes twinkled. "Go on. Pay the man."

Much reached for his coin but noticed two young women and a burly-looking Saracen whispering animatedly from an upstairs window above the vendor's cart. One of the women pointed at Carter and wagged her finger. "Carter," Much said as he paid the shopkeeper, "I believe they like you."

The olive-skinned, dark-eyed girls of Acre had flirted with the two men and beckoned them from windows and doors as they'd wandered down the street. Carter smiled at them and bowed when they blew him kisses. Their hands flew to their hearts, disappointment etched in their faces when he shook his head. Carter looked up. These two women were not flirting. In fact, one looked quite angry. The other had braced her hands against the window sill and was staring at the knight. Her hand flew to her face and she screamed. The Saracen man's voice boomed in Arabic and all eyes on the street turned to the two Englishmen.

Much thanked the shopkeeper and took a step back. "Do you know what they're saying?"

"I think we should get out of here," Carter said.

"I think you're right!" Much shouted as the Saracen man pointed toward them.

Carter backed into a vegetable cart as the two women screeched. The cart tipped over and he looked apologetically at its owner. "Anah asif--"

"Run, Master!"

The shopkeeper charged after Carter. The knight grabbed another cart filled with a rainbow of produce in reds, yellows, and greens and toppled it over to block the man's path. Another vendor's wares spilled onto the street. Baskets flew. Pottery crashed. A row of finely forged swords clanked to the ground.

Scooting past a dozen other carts with Much on his heels, Carter looked over his shoulder. One of the young women and the Saracen were not too far behind, both shouting at the tops of their lungs. Others in the market ignored them as if they'd seen this scenario played out daily.

Carter slid below one cart and appeared on the other side. He stuffed fruits and kebabs in his pack and tossed coins at the vendor. Much ran past him and up the ramp of a wagon delivering casks of ale. Taking a flying leap, Much landed on the back of a horse tethered nearby. Carter catapulted himself onto the horse behind Much. He grabbed Much's waist as they galloped away from the market and headed toward the hills that overlooked the harbour.

Sliding off the horse, Carter collapsed in the tall grass. He started laughing.

Much stared down at the knight. He was not amused. "What was that?" he half-shouted as he dismounted. "I cannot believe... I think that man wanted to arrest us... or worse, kill--"

Carter wouldn't let him finish. He pulled Much down to the ground then smothered his mouth with his own. His tongue pressed Much's lips apart and duelled with the squire's, answering riposte for riposte. Greedy hands groped Much's body and the former outlaw moaned deeply, aching with need. Carter pressed against Much, shifting until he could feel flesh hardening beneath him as he ground against his lover. He moved slowly, gazing into Much's blue eyes and trailing kisses on his cheeks. Burying his face against Much's neck, he felt their pace quicken as Much thrust his hips to meet his. They climaxed together, their hearts pounding wildly, their breaths short. Carter rested his head against Much's chest, his fingers roaming, exploring... never wanting the passion to end.

Much tilted Carter's chin up for another kiss then sat up and stared down at Acre's rooftops. "Did you know her?" he asked.

"Know who?"

"That girl at the shop."

Carter could tell from the look on Much's face that he wasn't going to get out of answering this one. "Yes, her name is Leila."

"Is that the one that ended badly?" Much asked. "Is that why she chased us?"

"That's not the one I spoke of," Carter replied, his voice low. "Leila and her sister tried to steal from me. When I saw what they were doing, I left without paying them."

"Paying them for goods--"

"For services, Much," he said matter-of-factly. He'd been lost in those days after his brother died, never looking for love. Comfort and release could easily be bought in local villages and often were readily offered by noblemen in the camps. They were merely diversions while he plotted his revenge against Robin as war raged around him.

Much pursed his lips. "Oh." He glanced sidelong at his lover and smiled. He snaked his arm around Carter's waist. "So the other one, the one that ended--"

Carter reached for Much's hand and squeezed it tightly. He closed his eyes against some painful memory and just shook his head. "Sun'll be going down soon. We should head to the inn."

Much was disappointed that he still couldn't get Carter to talk about his past but he let it pass again. "A room... and a bath?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course!" Carter exclaimed. Pulling a frond of lavender from his tunic, he twirled the stem and threw a cheeky grin at his squire.

Much jumped up. "Let's go!"

"There's no need to rush, Much."

"But a bath, Carter," he teased. "With lavender." Smiling, the squire held out his hand to to his lover and helped him up. He pulled the knight into another passionate kiss.

Carter pulled away. "Better stop--"

"Why?" Much pouted.

Carter traced his fingers around Much's lips. "I'll never leave this hillside if you keep that up."

"And I thought you had me, that I was your servant, your slave." Much's arms snaked around his lover's waist and he caressed Carter's face with blue eyes that spoke of passion and love.

"That look makes me _your _prisoner," Carter sighed.

"I like that thought," Much smiled again. "So _I'm_ the one with the power."

Carter smiled. "More than you'll ever know, my love."


	22. The Enemy Within

**Summary**: Carter and Much arrive at the King's camp south of Acre as Saracens sweep down for an attack. They soon realize that the Saracens may not be their only enemy.

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much, King Richard, James  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre: **Angst, Drama, Slash

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Enemy Within**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

The two soldiers set out on their journey as the sun peeked its fiery head in the east. Acre stood miles behind them now and they expected to see signs of the Lionheart's army before the end of the day. The realities of war were sinking in. It was hard to ignore when buzzards soared overhead, when carcasses littered the roads... when crosses were planted on a hillside where comrades had fallen.

After hours on the road there was something in the air--distant sounds and smells that grew stronger as they trekked south. Cresting a hill, they caught their first glimpse of King Richard's camp. Shivers ran up Much's spine, yet, like Carter, he felt proud as they eyed the landscape. The Greek Sea to the west, mountains to the east, and in the land that stretched between colourful banners flapped in the late winter wind. Emblazoned with dragons or crosses, the flags signaled they were home. The afternoon sun glinted off shields and armour, pack mules brayed, knights on horseback patrolled the eastern flank, and a thousand or more tents created an impressive city on the plain. A banner with a bold lion--the king's--waved high above the others.

Carter and Much urged their horses down the hill. Templars at the rear guard suddenly began shouting and Carter reined in their mounts, pointing toward Saracen raiders coming down one of the eastern slopes. A magnificent rider on a dark stallion charged toward the Saracen line. There was no mistaking the King. Much, and likely every Saracen in Palestine, easily recognized him by the way he held himself and the boldness and prowess he displayed. This Lionheart hid from no one.

There was no time to think, only to act. Carter raced toward the fray with Much riding at his back. Bolts sizzled through the air like a driving rain as the King's cavalrymen met the enemy. Swords were crossed and clanked and spears found their marks, the noise... the screams... so deafening that Much could not hear his own breath. His sword met a blade smeared with blood but its blows were no match for his.

Three lengths ahead, one of the Templars fell. The knight's killer whipped toward Much. He slashed his blade downward and to the side and the Saracen toppled to the ground. He stood quickly waving his sword but one of the King's guards hurtled past Much, swinging his weapon and rending the man's head from his body.

Much brought his mount around for another pass at the raiders. His sword collided with another, the force so strong that he nearly lost his seating. Arrows shot past too close for comfort. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Carter's horse stumble, throwing the knight to the ground. Saracens beat a path toward his master. Much screamed a warning though above the din of battle it fell on his ears only. He lost sight of Carter amidst a sea of men and horses but he tore a hole through the attacking Turks to the place he'd last seen him.

Much's heart pounded. He spurred his horse forward. Bodies... and pieces of bodies... littered the desert sands. Saracen bodies. A knight here. A squire there by his side as if he'd died protecting his master.

His stomach churning, Much let fear, desire, and rage keep him focused. A commotion off to his side caught his eye and he pulled his horse toward it. Carter was surrounded, deflecting enemy blows from the cavalrymen who bore down on him. Much pulled his long knife and loosed it with deadly accuracy. One Saracen collapsed to the desert sand as Much whisked past him, charged toward a second man, and sliced his sword through the thick desert air catching his enemy across the shoulder.

Circling back, Much galloped toward Carter. His master grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled himself onto the horse's back behind Much. Both men raised their swords and sent more of their adversaries to Allah. Another Templar also met their God. Carter directed Much toward the knight's riderless horse. He reached for the animal's reins and Much slowed just enough for Carter to jump into its saddle as the skirmish continued around them. Much's heart sank. He dreaded to think how close he'd come to losing Carter, didn't want to watch his lover ride into the thick of battle again. Shouting brought him back, and he saw two Saracens on King Richard's tail. Much charged toward them, catching one of the Saracens across the back with his sword while the other cut a path away from the King.

Someone else shouted to hold back--the Saracens were retreating into the hills, scattering like the desert sands. The King circled round, brandishing his sword above his head in victory. Much searched the faces of the knights, finally spotting Carter coming up beside him. Carter's brilliant blue eyes met his. Joy, relief, and sadness nearly made him swell with tears. He knew this wouldn't be the last battle they fought in the coming days.

The King goaded his horse toward them. "Carter!" he exclaimed.

"Your Majesty."

"You are a lifesaver, my friend!"

"'Not me, Your Majesty. Thank Lord Much."

"Lord--" The King eyed the squire, a hint of recognition on his furrowed brow. "Aren't you Robin's man?" he asked. But before Much could reply, he said, "Where is Robin? I did not expect to see help from Nottingham after receiving his note from La Denair."

"A note? From Robin?" Much blurted out, forgetting his place. "How--"

"Majesty," Carter interrupted his lover's excited outburst though he was just as curious, "Much is my squire now, knighted by the Queen Mother. We bring news--from Robin and her majesty. But perhaps our news is not so new as Robin's."

"Squire Much." The King sized up the former outlaw and winked his approval. "Both of you fools return to this land, but I am grateful. Your bravery, sir," he told Much, "will not go unrewarded."

"Serving you again is enough thanks for me, Your Majesty," Much replied.

"Let us talk, my friends. I must hear this news you bring!" The King spurred his horse, kicking up the sand as he turned back toward the main part of camp.

Carter and Much galloped after their king. Life in the Holy Land hit Much hard again as the adrenaline rushed from his face. What had he expected as squire to a knight during wartime? He hadn't walked into this blindly but he still let his thoughts stray to Sherwood, to Robin and the gang. He dreamed of forested hillsides and green pastures... not desert sands. He'd keep dreaming, too, until he saw England again.

~~~O~~~

Slowing their horses to a walk, Carter and Much approached the King's tent. Dozens of unfamiliar faces--men-at-arms, squires, servants, and knights--looked up at them, their weary faces brightening a bit to see the two Englishmen. New arrivals often meant news from home and Much knew that they'd have little time for themselves as the sun began to dip lower over the sea.

Three men emerged from the pavilion as they reined in their mounts. Wilfred of Surrey, Roger of Hereford, and James of Essex were knights whom Much recognized as those closest to King Richard, his advisors and confidants.

"Find these knights proper mantles, James," the King ordered enthusiastically as he dismounted his steed and a sergeant grasped its bridle. "They are part of my private guard." Richard turned around and smiled. "You had intended to stay, of course."

"At the King's pleasure, Your Majesty," Carter replied. He acknowledged Wilfred and Roger then nodded at James. "Good to see you again, my lord."

"And you." James' dark eyes frowned. It was obvious he was trying to place Much as the knight and squire alighted their horses.

Turning over their mounts' reins to another sergeant, Much tried to ignore the older knight's piercing scrutiny. There was something odd about it--an almost accusatory glance that made the former outlaw shudder.

"I do apologize," James said, looking directly at Much. "You are familiar--"

"My squire, Lord Much," Carter said.

"Much? You were Robin--"

"No more, My Lord," Carter told the knight. "Much is a free man, and recently knighted by Queen Eleanor."

"Indeed?" James dipped his head. "And squire to Sir Carter. I shall be interested to hear how this has come to pass, My Lords. However, the King awaits you."

Two servants were dismantling the King's armour as Carter and Much followed James into the pavilion. Richard seemed annoyed by their attention. Much knew better than to show his amusement at the King's impatience but wondered if someone not of noble birth could become accustomed to regal treatment. He remembered feeling... embarrassed... yes, embarrassed... though for only a short time... by all the attention he received when he was lord of the manor at Bonchurch. He sighed, thinking he would be willing to become more familiar with that way of life.

"You bring news of my brother's treachery?" the King asked.

"If I may ask, Sire, how is it that a note has reached you from Lord Locksley?" Carter asked. "Who is this La Denair?"

"We shall have to introduce you, won't we, James?" Richard replied, nodding toward a half dozen cages on the far side of the tent. "Pigeons, my friends."

"Pig--" Much stopped himself knowing it was out of turn to speak without being addressed by his master or the King. He didn't miss the scornful look Sir James sent his way but felt relieved when neither the King nor Carter took any notice.

Richard pulled away from his servants and strode to a table littered with maps. He picked up the smallest of parchments and handed it to Carter. Carter passed it to Much, anxious to have his squire show off his reading skills.

Much unfurled the paper and read the note aloud. "Your Majesty. No reinforcements. John plots to steal your throne. Come home now. Make peace." _Hm..._ Much thought... _Come home now? I would have said 'immediately' -- it's a bit longer but more forceful, more urgent. I do like that word. Immediately._

"It would've taken only a week, no more, to travel from England. When did you depart?"

Much's eyes widened in disbelief but when he noticed that Carter did not question the King, he decided he'd learn more about these pigeons from his master later.

"In October, just after St. Luke's day, Your Majesty," Carter replied. "Rough seas and storms delayed our journey from several ports."

"Winter travel is for the birds. Or rather, for pigeons?" Richard laughed at his own joke and the knights laughed with him. "La Denair's message was brief. What more can you tell me?"

"It is true, Sire. Your enemies have gathered into a brotherhood of Black Knights to serve Prince John, seeking to overthrow you. Your taxes are subverted to his pockets and the people suffer under the oppressive rule of men like the Sheriff of Nottingham. The queen mother told us there are rumors that mercenaries are being hired to fight those still loyal to Your Majesty. She urged us to encourage you to return to England right away."

Richard looked at James, his face filled with frustration. "I have held council with the nobles and my knights, Carter," he scowled, turning back to meet the young knight's eyes. "To return home before we enter Jerusalem would be unwise." He shot toward the new arrivals under Much's nervous gaze. "We risk losing everything that we have gained--Acre, Jaffa, Tyre--all could fall back into Turk hands."

"You must make peace, Your Majesty," Carter urged. "A truce--"

"You speak out of turn, Carter," James snapped. "Do not presume to give orders to his majesty."

Carter bowed averting his eyes. "Apologies, Majesty."

Richard lifted Carter's chin. "You speak on behalf of Robin who is my trusted friend. You've witnessed my brother's plot firsthand. But John is a weak fool. He doesn't know how to inspire men. He will fail."

James nodded in agreement. Much's eyes shifted restlessly from his king to the knights. He knew Carter could say nothing more. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pursed his mouth unable to believe they might have come all this way to have their plea fall on deaf ears. Politics. How he hated politics.

"My friends," Richard said, "we shall speak later of England, of Aquitaine, and of my mother." He looked at James. "Find a billet for our brothers."

"Robert of Kent was killed in skirmishes yesterday, your majesty, may God rest his soul," James replied.

"A brave, true knight," Richard agreed. "Sir Robert would be pleased to know that Carter will have his quarters."

"It would be my honour, Your Majesty," Carter replied with a bow.

"Until later, My Lords."

Carter and Much took their leave of the King and followed James from the tent. "Horses," James shouted at the sergeant.

Much clenched his fist, so tempted to speak out despite James' presence. As he took the reins from the sergeant and led the animals a few paces behind, Carter noticed his fidgeting. He knew disgust, perhaps outrage, bubbled beneath his squire's otherwise calm expression so he turned and threw him a wink. Much did not notice that his master reached for something in his tunic until he saw a familiar stem. Carter clasped his hands behind his back and twisted the lavender frond in his fingers. He glanced back again and Much gave him that little sideways nod that Carter knew well.

"Carter?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"You've been absent a long while," James said.

"Not so long that I've forgotten," Carter replied.

James studied the younger man. "I'm not so sure of that," he said glancing back towards Much. "I would advise you to watch your tongue and be mindful of your squire."

Carter frowned. "The King needs counsel from all his knights, My Lord," he insisted, aware of a vague threat behind James' words. "I fear he might lose his kingdom should he tarry too long--"

"Tarry?" James exclaimed. "He is doing God's work here. There is much at stake."

"I would not disagree, My Lord," Carter said.

"The Turks must be defeated. Jerusalem will be ours."

Carter stopped and looked at the knight. "Hasn't there been enough killing?"

"Your time in England has softened you, Carter."

"No, my lord. It has shown me that our friends at home are suffering, and the longer we stay in Palestine, the more their hearts ache," he said. James dismissed that notion with a wave of his hand and resumed his walk. Carter stared after him a moment, looked at Much, then followed him. "They need us home. They need their king."

"They are filled with pride when they hear of his majesty's victories here," James gushed. "They gratefully sacrifice--"

"No, My Lord. The poor care nothing for this holy war. Others line their pockets at their expense--"

"For the King," James insisted. "For the army."

"For their own greed," Carter hissed. "If you think that the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John send all taxes to the King then you are gravely mistaken. We have seen it with our own eyes. The Black Knights have nothing but their own power and position in mind."

"The King has his sights set on Jerusalem. You would be wise not to forget that." James stopped and pointed to a tent. "Welcome back, My Lord."

~~~O~~~

"I do not trust him, Carter," Much said as he stored the provisions in their new home. The tent held two cots and a chest and had just enough headroom for them to stand.

"I know," Carter replied as he sat on one of the cots. "And that is a good thing."

"What?" Much looked back at his lover.

"It means you'll be watching your back," Carter said. "And mine."

"Is there nothing else we can say?"

Carter threw his arms over Much's shoulders. "I'm afraid not, Much. I'm sorry. I know you wanted the King to say 'let's go back to England' but war... politics... it's all so complicated. Robin was close to him, and if his words cannot persuade the King, what chance do we have?"

Much turned in Carter's arms. "Wishful thinking I suppose." He rested his head on Carter's shoulder. "I hate politics."

Carter chuckled. "So do I." He ran his hand through Much's soft curls, tilted his chin up, and kissed him gently. "We won't stop talking with the King, Much."

"Is that all you'll be doing?" Much frowned. "Just talking?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Well, we're back here. In Palestine. With the King. And there was Brooks."

"And others, too, Much, but that was different. Do you understand?"

"They mean nothing to you?"

"How many times must I tell you?" Carter sighed, exploring his lover's face with his eyes.

Much smiled and teasingly pondered Carter's question. "How many stars did you say there are in the heavens?"

Carter answered his lover with a kiss.

"How about that," Much said when Carter broke their kiss.

"What?"

"A pigeon." Much's eyes filled with wonder. "That is hard to believe. A bird carrying a note all the way from England. How can that be? How would it find its way back here?"

Carter nuzzled Much's neck. "I've heard it's not looking for its home."

"Then what?" Much asked.

"It's looking for its mate. A pigeon will travel to the ends of the earth to get to the one it loves."

"Really? That's incredible."

Carter trailed kisses up Much's neck, over his stubbled jaw, and up to his temple. "I don't think so. I know I'd travel miles over mountains, stormy seas, and deserts to find you."

Much smiled at his lover. "I knew that." He ran a finger along Carter's brow, down his nose, and traced his lips. He cupped Carter's face in his hands and kissed him, shutting out all thoughts of politics and war and what the King might have in store. No matter those things, he knew how deep Carter's love ran. He cradled Carter's head against his shoulder. In their tent they would shield themselves from the outside world and hold every touch, every look, and every thought for each other...

* * *

**A/N: **And so we head into the events of 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation" and introduce Robin and the gang to a tall French knight who may just hang around longer than a day or so...

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	23. Seeing the Hood for the Trees

**Summary**: The outlaws watch the mercenaries unaware they too are being observed. This chapter takes place just at the start of the events of 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Legrand, Robin, Will, Djaq, Little John  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Gen, Teeniest Tiniest Hint of Slash

**A/N:** to spare you (and me) a lot of translation, characters speaking in French are denoted using ()...

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Seeing the Hood for the Trees**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

Legrand easily parried the knife and cracked his staff up under the outlaw's chin sending him sprawling into the dirt. He checked his companion - he too had finished off his opponent with ease, receiving not even a scratch from the untrained and desperate men they had been fighting.

Legrand tugged the scarf from his face and sighed with frustration. He'd had no idea Sherwood Forest was this large nor that it would contain quite so many outlaws. He was still certain he would recognise Robin of Locksley, even after all this time, but to do that he had to get close to him. Each time they'd approached a likely suspect over the past few days he'd given them the option to flee once he'd determined they weren't Robin but they'd always chosen to fight. It was getting quite wearing. English wasn't his first language but what part of "I have no wish to fight you" did these men not understand?

"Legrand!" He turned as he heard his name harshly whispered from the outcrop above him. It was his other man, back from scouting out the road ahead.

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est__?_"

"_Plus d'hors-la-lois. Quatre... et un est un femme._"

"(A woman?)"

"(Yes and Saracen from the look of her but that's not all...)"

"(Tell me.)"

"(Mercenaries. A large train of them, heading for one of the villages. The outlaws are watching them. I think they're going to try and steal some of their supplies.)"

_And that speaks of organisation_, thought Legrand. _Definitely worth investigating._

"(Let's go.)"

He followed his man to the top of a slope where they could see the troop of mercenaries making its slow progress along the forest road and watched as the outlaws silently joined the end of the train. A slender, dark haired man with an axe and a smaller figure with a sword he assumed must be the woman led the way. A broad-shouldered brute almost his own size followed shortly behind carrying a simple staff and another hooded male figure brought up the rear. The two in front nodded to the large man who stealthily closed the distance between himself and the two mercenaries strolling along behind the supply wagon.

Legrand's heart sank. If that was their leader then this definitely wasn't Robin's gang.

He watched as the outlaw cracked his staff off both mercenaries heads at once, immediately felling one of them, then stepped forward and snapped the head of the other round with a swift blow.

_Not bad, _Legrand grudgingly admitted._ That one could give even me problems... Wait a minute..._

Having cleared the way, the larger man had now stepped back and was gesturing to the man at the rear who hopped forward onto the back of the wagon.

_Maybe he's not the leader..._

The hooded figure dropped lightly from the top of the wagon, kicked the driver off into the road and sat down in his place, gently steering the oxen down a separate path as the road forked.

_Could be... Has his agility and he's the right build.__  
_  
"(What do you think, Legrand?)"

"(Let's follow them - see where they're taking that wagon. Even if it's not Robin we could use some of that food ourselves.)"

His men nodded in agreement and they set off in pursuit of their new quarry.

-----------------------

"(That store looks well built. Maybe the dark-haired one does more than fight with that axe... It's got to be him, Legrand. Planning, team work, discipline, we've seen none of that from any of these other English louts.)"

"(I hope you're right, my friend but for the King's sake we cannot just assume that. They outnumber us and obviously have more fighting skills than the others we've come across but we have the element of surprise so let's use it. Wait until they've loaded the big man up again, make sure he doesn't reach that staff of his and I'll try and get close enough to their leader to see if it really is Robin. Try not to kill any of them until I can confirm or deny it. Agreed?)"

"(Agreed.)" All three pulled on their masks.

Legrand stepped round from the tree concealing him. From this short distance he could see the smaller dark-haired outlaw was little more than a boy. One good blow should take him out.

The young man turned as he sensed Legrand's presence behind him and Legrand swiftly punched him across the jaw then stepped over him as he fell stunned to the forest floor.

The woman threw herself down from the back of the wagon with a wild cry but both she and the large outlaw ran straight into Legrand's men. They attempted to fight back but quickly found themselves with cold steel at their throats and submitted with more sense than Legrand's men had seen from any other of Sherwood's inhabitants.

Legrand traded punches with the fair-haired man, knocking him to the ground. As the outlaw scrambled backwards his hair fell back from his face and more importantly his eyes and Legrand roared in delighted recognition. "Robin!"

He was rewarded with a swift kick to his stomach and another to his chin which knocked him off his feet. He lay with his arms stretched wide, making no attempt to resist as his men stepped back from their prisoners. His opponent quickly scrambled on top of him, knife drawn and tugged down his mask.

"Legrand!"

He was most relieved to hear he also had been recognised.

"I have a message from the King!"

~~~O~~~

He discussed the King's message with Robin as the outlaws and his men finished unloading the wagon. Legrand had initially tried to help out but the large outlaw had snatched the heavy stack of provisions away from him with a thunderous expression, as if he were trying to steal them.

"What are we looking for anyway?" Robin asked.

"_Thesaurus Patriae_."

"That's Latin - for 'Treasure of the Nation'," came a voice from behind him.

Legrand turned in surprise to the Saracen women standing inside the cart. "She speaks Latin! What a woman!" He noted the smouldering glare that got him from the dark-haired younger man who was still rubbing his jaw and giving Legrand baleful looks. _Oh yes? You'll have no competition from me, boy - you're much more my type than she is._

"Oi!" The older man had retrieved both their staffs and held them side by side. His eyes compared Legrand's larger, carefully crafted weapon with his own much more rudimentary one and he glowered at the Frenchman.

"Thanks." Legrand took his staff then turned back to Robin, smirking as the other staff-bearer walked away, scowling and muttering about "Bloody nobles". _That one's definitely going to be a problem._

Robin folded the King's message away. Staring at it wasn't going to help decipher it. "Let's go meet this wool merchant then. What was his name?"

"Paxton."

"Paxton, right..." Robin watched as the extended group grabbed their weapons and concealed the food store again. "I hope his part of the message makes more sense than this one..."


	24. Out of the Forest and into the Woods

**Summary**: Much is sent on an important errand for Carter with a basket of goodies. Hints at a certain children's fable.

**Characters/Pairings**: Carter/Much/King Richard, James  
**Mentions**: Robin  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre: **Slash

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Out of the Forest and into the Woods!**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"Should I wear such a bold colour?" Much fidgeted with the tie on the red cloak as Carter stood behind him admiring his reflection in the polished silver.

"As a servant no, as a squire yes. Red looks beautiful on you. You'll be fine, Much."

The squire stopped and turned. "I won't be fine. I'm going to introduce myself to the king... alone!" He screwed up his face as Carter gave him a final look over. "I don't understand why we can't go together?"

"Because I have to meet up with the other knights first." He placed his hand on his lover's arm. "You look good enough to eat." He looked around to make sure they were alone then planted a kiss on Much's cheek and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "Wish I could do just that right now. The King is going to love you."

"Is he?" Much wasn't so sure. He had faced the king before with Robin and was not very impressed. As a manservant, he was no more than seen as a pet of his masters and was rightly treated as such by anyone above his station. He accepted his fate, but it still stung when one as prideful as himself was treated that way.

"So take this," Carter said placing the basket in his hand, "and I will meet you there."

"What's in here?" Much peeked into the basket and Carter gently smacked his hand.

"Some things from the Queen Mother. She bade me to bring her son mementos from home in Aquitaine. I added some baked goods from the market for His Majesty's table." He waggled a finger at his ever-insatiable lover. "I know everything that is in there, Much. Should that basket arrive to King Richard with so much as a crumb missing because someone in a red cape got hungry on the way to his tent, it will be your backside!"

"Promises, promises!" Much mocked, sticking his tongue out at his lover.

"Just remember," Carter sobered, "speak only when bade by the King. Eat and drink only after he offers."

Much could already imagine the splendid table laid out for His Highness and his stomach grumbled loudly at the thought. He reluctantly nodded.

"Do exactly as he commands you. You are my emissary till I arrive," Carter smiled. "I so want the King to like you."

Much puzzled at the comment. Why should Carter care whether the King should be taken with his squire or not? He shrugged it off with more thoughts of the King's table and the delicious smells coming from the basket.

He set off alone to the King's pavilion and had no trouble getting past the royal guard at the entrance. One of the soldiers smirked knowingly at his red cape giving the squire an unsure pause as he made his way inside.

In the darkened tent he followed the torchlight to the main area and nodded to the King's advisor to introduce him.

"Sir Carter of Wilton's squire requests an audience with His Majesty," James proclaimed in a tone that made Much flinch. He tugged at his collar nervously as the King's gaze met his.

"Sir Carter of Wilton's squire?" King Richard's amused expression did nothing to set Much's nerves to rest. "Come forth. Why not Sir Carter himself?"

Much looked at James, reminding himself that he didn't trust that man as he kneeled before the King. "Your Majesty, my master finds himself detained and hopes to make his presence shortly. He sends me as his humble emissary."

"So... Carter's squire?" Richard replied, still with a slight smirk of amusement. "And does Carter's squire have a name?" Richard was toying with the former outlaw now, fully remembering the young man's bravery and not forgetting their last encounter.

"Much of Locksley, Your Highness," Much stuttered.

"Lord Much of Bonchurch," the king corrected smiling, "as my mother dubbed thee if I recall correctly. May I call you Much?"

Much relaxed immediately staring into the king's warm blue eyes. He thought, You're the King of England. You can bloody call me whatever you like! But held his tongue and nodded chastely at the king's request.

"Good! I see you have brought me something?" Richard motioned for Much to stand and come over.

Much remembered the reason for his being there. "Yes, Your Majesty, tokens of affection from Her Majesty, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and his Lordship Carter of Wilton."

Richard smiled, lifting the cloth and finding what awaited him. He held up the shafts of dried French lavender taking in their fragrance. "Your master knows me all too well, Much. As does my mother." He sobered. "I have lost word with her and am concerned. She has not returned from Pontefract and I fear there is foul play. I summoned Legrand to find your former master and have him help look for the 'Thesaurus Patriae'." Richard grimaced, "Poor Frenchman has probably wandered over half of Europe by now with no idea what he is looking for. I only hope Robin figures it out and finds her."

"The 'Treasure of the Nation'," Much smiled. "She was well when we left Poitiers, Your Majesty. I hope for her safe return."

"You understand Latin? That's very impressive for one of your background. Seems my boys are seeing to your education and your grooming." The King nodded, "I figured it was best not to alarm the people in case my mother had decided to take a side trip and not tell anyone. She is a headstrong woman at times." He looked up at the squire. "I appreciate your well wishes for her, Lord Much. Thank you." A small mischievous smile crossed the King's lips as he twirled one of the purple fronds. "So tell me, is our boy Carter still up to his usual antics?"

Much couldn't help a pang of jealousy as his imagination and Carter's saucy bedtime stories flooded his mind and coloured his cheeks. "As always Your Majesty," he agreed reluctantly.

Richard sat down on his throne. He eyed the former manservant with amusement then patted the chair beside him. "James, bring some wine for myself and Carter's squire." He turned his attention back to the nervous blond knight next to him. "I am anxious to hear what my former guard Robin and your new master have been up to in my absence."

The King's advisor brought the pitcher of wine and two chalices to the King and Much, then stood at his post.

"That will be all, James. Thank you." The King dismissed him with a side glance as he handed a chalice to the squire.

"But Sire?" James began.

"I said that would be all, James." The King looked directly at the advisor. "I will summon you when you are needed again."

"Y-yes Sire!" James cast a rueful glance at Much as he made way for the exit.

"And James?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"We are not to be disturbed unless Lord Carter arrives, then send him right in."

"As you wish, Sire." Much caught the advisor's glare of outright hostility as he left. He got a sudden shiver when he realized he was now alone with the most powerful man in England and more shocking, one whose attention was solely on him at the moment.

"You may drink, Much," the King guided, as if the man before him was a small child.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Much meekly answered as he drew the chalice nervously to his lips. The wine was strong and unwatered. It washed over his palate and warmed his insides adding to the glow in his already blushing cheeks.

"You don't trust that man who just left, do you?" the King pondered, almost causing his guest to spew expensive wine.

"Sire?" Much managed to reply after gulping down the wine he sipped.

"I can tell you are a truthful man and if two of my most loyal knights find you fit to serve them then you must be." He smiled kindly as his eyes glittered in the candlelight. "Your words will reach no others ears save mine. You can be honest."

"Well," Much stammered, "I wouldn't turn my back on him if you ask me." He then blushed at his forthrightness, "You are asking me, Sire...are you not?"

"I am," Richard replied. "I do not trust my advisor fully either but at least Lord James isn't a poisoner."

"Why is that, Sire?" Much replied puzzled.

"Because I let you sip the wine first and you still stand." This time Much couldn't help himself and spewed his wine, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, to the King's soft laughter.

"Sire!" Much stared at his host in wide-eyed horror.

"A joke, my dear Much. Oh, you do need to relax." Richard placed his hand on his guest's leg and let it linger. "Apologies, I seem to have inherited my mother's dry sense of humor. I hope I haven't offended."

"No offense, Sire." Much looked nervously at the hand still gently pressed to his leg. The stories of this man's legendary appetites of a different nature came to mind and he could see why Carter was so charmed with Richard the Lionheart. At the thought, Much blushed furiously and turned his face away as he downed another sip.

"I always did like them blond and jittery," the King muttered as he poured his guest more wine.

"Sire?"

"Nothing," Richard smiled, changing the subject. "How is Lord Carter treating you?"

"He is treating me very well, Your Highness."

I'm sure he is, the King thought. He vaguely remembered this man in dirty rags as a manservant and was astonished at the transformation. He admired Much's large pale blue eyes and blond wavy hair. He could see why Carter took him as a squire. His knights clearly had discriminating taste. "And how is Robin?"

"Last I saw, he was well," Much replied sadly, remembering his friend and the reason he had returned to the Holy Land. "He was forced to take up residence in Sherwood and is taking a stand against Sheriff Vaizey in Nottingham."

"So I've heard rumors." Richard sighed. "One of my best soldiers, outlawed to the forest like a common criminal."

"He fights for you," Much reasoned. "You can send pardon and restore him to Locksley, could you not?"

"Nottingham is in my brother's care while I'm at war and I must abide by his sheriff's laws. But as soon as I'm home, I will hear my former soldier's side and Vaizey's then judge fairly."

"Then that's all I can ask," Much replied sadly.

Richard thumbed the former manservant's chin fondly. "I will see to it your former master is restored to his lands when this is all over, Lord Much. Trust me."

Much suddenly blushed at the closeness, feeling Richard's breath against his face. The wine he consumed was taking effect and the monarch in front of him was so very persuasive.

"You are a very handsome soldier, Lord Much," Richard said running his fingers through the squire's wavy hair. "I would like to take you... as a member of my personal guard." He smiled as he gazed at the nervous soldier. "My what big eyes you have. I could just devour you right here." To Much's astonishment, the King's lips connected with his, softly first, then with more enthusiasm. His mind shut down at the sudden thought of who was kissing him. Richard pulled away smiling. "Sorry I just couldn't help myself. You must think me more the wolf than the lion." Before Much could respond, his master entered the room.

Carter cleared his throat softly, "Your Majesty."

"Lord Carter! It's about time you attended our little private dinner. Come sit!"

Carter knelt to kiss his monarch's hand but was lead upward by Richard. The King brazenly brushed his lips to those of his knight. "We are in private quarters, Carter, there is no need of such formalities."

"I see you've had the time to be properly introduced to my handsome squire," the knight mused.

"Such a lovely gift. Thank you." Richard grinned as he leaned back over to the slightly confused former outlaw and kissed him again. "I enjoyed the basket from Mum as well."

"Hopefully our Much is a gift to be shared," Carter replied grinning as he gave his lover a reassuring hug.

"If I get to taste you again as well, my knight, certainly!" He kissed Carter breathlessly then nodded at the two men he now embraced. "My private bedchamber is that way. Bring the wine and we shall 'talk' some more."

Much shot his master a conspiratory glance. "So I was part of your 'gift' to the king you say?"

"Do you mind sharing me again?" Carter replied, slightly worried at the discovery of his little ruse.

"Would it not be considered treason to say no to a proposition from the King of England?" Much spat. He let his master off the hook with a smile. "As long as he shares me with you, no."

~~~O~~~

"No! I can't! Please don't ask me," Much begged as Richard held his arms.

"But you know you want this," Carter teased.

Much glared defiantly at his lover, disbelieving the impossible position he now found himself in. "I thought you loved me."

"I do love you, all the more reason I want you to do it." Carter held the delicious baked good inches away from his lover's quivering lips.

"Well maybe one more wouldn't hurt," Much said as he took another bite of the meat pie. His eyes rolled back at the sensual richness of beef and gravy. He collapsed into Richard's arms and chewed as the monarch planted soft kisses down his neck.

"You were right, Lord Carter. It is amusing to watch your squire eat." The King gently wiped the corner of Much's mouth then covered it hungrily with his own, eliciting a soft moan of satisfaction from his new lover.

"But there is something more enjoyable to watch him do," Carter added as he greedily took the squire's length into his hot mouth. Much reared back and hissed at the sensation, finding Richard's lips again. He knew he was in for quite an interesting evening as he suddenly found a peeled grape in his mouth along with His Highness's tongue. Carter's expert ministrations quickly brought him to quivering release as he moaned into the King's mouth. Richard smiled salaciously as the blond squire draped against him, totally spent. He purred into Much's ear, "My turn now."

~~~O~~~

The wild night with the King left both men tired but satiated as dawn saw them back to their own tent. Much's belly was full and his body sore from Richard and Carter alternately taking turns feeding him and having their way with the squire. Much was unusually quiet as he settled onto the large mat they now shared. Carter eyed his friend with apprehension. "No regrets I hope?"

"No regrets." Much sighed as he watched his lover undress in the dim light. "Although I may never eat another morsel again."

Carter grinned. "And yet I get the feeling you will be the first to show when the breakfast bell is tolled."

Much grunted at the mention of more food, then shifted positions to better aid his overstuffed stomach. He frowned, remembering his conversation with the monarch. "I asked if the King could pardon Robin. He said he had to hear both his and the sheriff's sides before he could."

Carter nodded at the reasoning of the king. "Sounds fair. Remember, when the time comes, you now have His Majesty's ear. Your words will weigh heavily in your former master's defense."

"He said he would gladly have me in his private guard. Me...consort to King Richard," Much grinned.

"Don't think I'm letting you go quite that easily do you, Lord Much?" Carter mused as he lay down beside his lover.

"You would fight the King of England to keep me?"

Carter leaned in and covered Much's lips with his own. "I would fight the Devil himself to keep you."


	25. Breathtaking Part 1

**Summary**: The first of two series of vignettes throughout 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation", as the Nightwatchman is unmasked and the Gang discover the Treasure...

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan, Marian, Guy, Legrand, Little John, Queen Eleanor  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Gen

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Breathtaking (Part 1)**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

She looks in panic to the dark figure by the door, like a doe trapped by hounds and for a moment he actually considers if there is any way he can possibly help her. She's so young, so innocent, not part of the same grubby world he inhabits. Even the fact she is Robin's love does not take away from her purity in his eyes.

"Guy! I've caught the Nightwatchman!" The words are out before he can stop them - the habit of a lifetime hard to break. He's betrayed friends, lovers, even family across the years, all in his own best interest.

For her, he will feel remorse.

~~~O~~~

He looks at him and his breath catches in his throat.

That stone hadn't budged an inch with both him and his men straining at it and yet it slowly rises as the scruffy outlaw grits his teeth and hauls it upwards.

"I don't believe it!" He'd assumed the older man was all bluster, defensive at being challenged on his home territory but he can see now that the few inches in height that he has on the dark-haired Englishman are present across his broad shoulders.

"Go on, John!" His friends shout their encouragement and he finds himself joining in. He rarely makes friends with men his size when he encounters them, his natural competitive streak and noble's detachment usually get in the way.

For him, he could make an exception.

~~~O~~~

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

He had hoped for that one brief moment to see her unblemished. Instead he sees that perfect, smooth skin scarred by his blade. The pain she must have felt then matching the pain he feels now, tearing at his heart and twisting his gut.

He's pictured her so many times displaying herself to him, imagined that skin so many times under his fingertips, but never like this. In his dreams she is flawless, her skin like alabaster. The vivid red scar makes a mockery of every single one of them.

"Prepare the prisoner. We return to Nottingham. I've sent word to the Sheriff that we've captured the Nightwatchman."

"Guy..."

"_You _do not speak to me."

To him, she is dead.

~~~O~~~

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

He barely hears her addressed as "Your Majesty" and doesn't need to. Who else could she be but a Queen? Her presence fills the room with quiet authority and if her beauty has faded with age, then she must have driven men to utter madness in her youth. He kneels in reverence to her, not her title.

Her piercing eyes sweep in his direction and he hurriedly looks to the floor, unworthy of meeting her stern gaze. He does not see it soften in admiration as it falls on him.

She has commanded Kings and Princes across Europe, thousands of men have pledged themselves to her service and he knows he will be one more to do so and gladly.

For her, he would die.

~~~O~~~

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

What is she playing at? She's flirting like an unmarried maiden, not the mother of Kings she is!

He's used to her sudden whims and strange fancies but this one may beat them all! What on earth can she see in that English brigand? He has strength and courage undoubtedly and he's... possibly attractive, in a _very _rough way but still... Why should the Queen be more accepting of his untried protection rather than that which has been proven time and again?

For her, he will feel jealous.

Or is that _of _her...


	26. Breathtaking Part 2

**Summary**: A second series of scenes throughout 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation", as the Gang fight the Sheriff for the Queen and the Nightwatchman prepares to face the gallows...

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Much, Queen Eleanor, Legrand, Allan, Marian, Guy, Will, Djaq, Little John  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Gen

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Breathtaking (Part 2)**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

He looks at him and his breath catches in his throat.

He sees him standing beside them, sword drawn, shield ready - ready to fight and defend his friends even though he knows he is thousands of miles away. Not since that fateful day racing through the forest has he been able to picture his absent friend so clearly.

When he blinks and the apparition vanishes he knows he will do anything to stay alive until he can see him again and let him know how sorely he has been missed.

For him, he will always keep fighting.

~~~O~~~

She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.

No man can survive that - surely! And yet not only does he still stand but he roars once more, swinging his huge staff around his head, preparing to drive the odious little man into the ground like a tent peg.

His eyes widen as another arrow pierces his chest from the front and for the first time he falters. She sees the gleam of triumph in his foe's eyes as he draws a dagger from his sleeve and almost gleefully buries it into her protector's stomach. He crumples to the ground even as the shouts ring out from the cliff top above them.

"For the Queen!"

It is a pledge she has heard many times and in many places but the handsome knight with the laugh as big as his stature has proved it with his body, not just his words.

For him, she will mourn.

~~~O~~~

She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.

For a second she imagines it is her love, before she takes in the taller, thinner frame and realises it is her betrayer, turned unlikely saviour. She finally appreciates the power of the name and the mask - no-one could mistake them for each other but the Nightwatchman must always be the man in the mask no matter his height, build or even gender.

She looks to the dark figure standing, apparently as surprised as she is, by the gallows. Was this his plan? Has he truly done something so selfless and for her? Maybe there is hope for him yet.

For him, she will choose to stay.

~~~O~~~

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

He has slain his opponent but she still fights hers. He rushes to help her but there is no need. She screams as she plunges her sword into the mercenary's stomach and it's an animal noise full of passion and anger, not the scream of a helpless woman. She kicks the body away, breasts heaving, hair clinging to her head, her lips parted in a snarl of triumph.

He has never wanted her more than he does in that moment.

She looks over at him as the body tumbles down the cliff side, her soft brown eyes ablaze with the rush of battle.

For her, he would go to the ends of the earth.

~~~O~~~

He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.

How could he even have considered handing her over to be hanged like a common criminal? Her smile is the only point of light in his dark world.

"Will you do something for me now?"

"Name it." She responds instantly, making him painfully aware that she knows she is deeply in his debt. He knows his request will be both more than he can hope for and not nearly as much as he could ask but of all his heart's most selfish desires, it is the strongest.

"Stay... and make this place bearable."

"I will stay." Her smile lights the room and she throws her arms around his neck. "Thank you." Her lips brush against his jawline just under his ear and it is more than enough reward to erase the hurt of Vaizey's backhand across the same spot minutes earlier.

For her, he would endure a hundred such blows.

~~~O~~~

He looks at him and his breath catches in his throat.

Each intake of air is a fresh wave of pain. He has always given his heart with all his strength and now he gives his hand in the same way, for once unafraid of injuring the one to whom both are given. His new friend grips it tightly, as if that act of hanging on can make him do likewise to the life he feels slowly seeping from him into the foreign soil. The bond newly formed between their hands thus echoes that suddenly created between their hearts.

"A stronger man, I never knew."

The words, like the man, are straightforward, not dressed in noble flattery. He asks what he needs to know in the certainty that he will not be lied to with reassuring falsehoods given to a dying man.

"The Queen...?"

"Legrand."

He turns his head to the quiet authority of her voice, loyal to its command even now. She is safe, unharmed and above all, he knows she is still protected by arms as strong as his. He laughs both with relief and at that final thought of her dignified majesty now and for ever allied to the peasant's simple honesty.

For them, he can let go.

~~~O~~~

She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.

His wounds are terrible, awful. The arrows in his back driven further in as he fell on them and the wound to his stomach, deep. If he is lucky it has missed his vital organs but he is rapidly losing blood and lots of it. He laughs as if death is merely another great jest before his eyes close and she determines that if he is to have the last laugh, then it will not be that one.

For him, she will do what she can and pray it is enough...


	27. How To Save A Life

**Summary**: Djaq thinks she can heal Legrand's wounds but he's lost a lot of blood... Set during 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Djaq, Little John, Robin, Will, Queen Eleanor, Legrand  
**Mentions**: Carter, Much  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Angst, Het, hint of Slash

––––––––––––––––

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: How To Save A Life**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"No! There has been too much death in the forest today!" Djaq's small lithe form wiggled freely out of her lover's grasp as she ran down to the clearing where the large blond man was drawing his last breath, surrounded by his queen and his new friends.

John grabbed her shoulders. "He's gone, Djaq."

"Not yet, there is still time! I need you to do this for me!" She grabbed his hands and clasped them together over the dying man's chest. "Press here, in and out, as hard as you can. I will breathe for him." She called out to the others, "Will, Robin, we need horses and something to make a sling with to get him back to camp." She wished Much was with them then. He always knew the drill when one of them was injured and came up with cloth scraps, her medical kit and boiling water before he was even asked to. The other outlaws knew as well. Although Robin was the leader at any other time, when one of their own was down, Djaq took over. She smiled up from her ministrations. "Quickly, he is breathing on his own again!"

~~~O~~~

Back at camp, Djaq emerged from the sleeping quarters. Her tunic was covered in blood, sweat clung to her brow. The others sat around the camp in stunned silence. Queen Eleanor had her head on John's shoulder and, for once, he didn't seem to mind. Will looked up from where he was talking to Robin. "Is he..."

She nodded solemnly. "He still lives. I fixed the injuries as best I could, but he lost a lot of blood." She teared up as Will came over to her and drew her to the fire. "I tried to save him."

"How much longer?" John asked in almost a hushed whisper as if calling death out loud would make it come faster for the brave knight.

"Till dawn at least, the blood loss has weakened him so. It is only a matter of time." She looked up tearfully, "I am sorry."

The carpenter shushed her. "You did what you could."

Robin nodded, "You have nothing to apologise for."

The big man sighed as he held the royal family's sleeping matriarch close. "I just wish I could give him some of mine."

"What did you say?" The healer was near exhausted sleep but the giant's comment had her eyes open wide in an instant.

"I said 'I wish I could give him some of my blood'," John lamented, not used to repeating himself, especially when it was an offhand comment.

Djaq sprang out of Will's arms with renewed energy and was in front of the large outlaw. She looked into his eyes and examined the colour of his nails. "Yes! It is possible!"

"What are you on about, girl?" John huffed as the Queen awoke next to him.

"What is that Saracen woman doing Robin?" Eleanor asked. "How is Legrand? Is he dead?"

Robin shot the monarch an amused expression. "I know that look. I think she is on to something."

"Will," she called excitedly, "the pump you were working on for me - we need it, and I need some other things."

"What are you doing?" The carpenter's expression was quizzical.

She shrugged, smiling at Little John. "Legrand needs blood, we will give him blood."

~~~O~~~

The large knight lay on the cot that was comically too small for him, still as a corpse. His lips were pale and blue, his face ashen, and the only sign of life was the faintest rise and fall of his chest.

"You think this will work?" Little John sat on the other side next to the contraption Djaq and Will were rigging. He stared at the large canula with reservation. "And you are going to put that where?"

"In the Holy Land, I saw my father try this. If we were able to stop the blood loss in time and find someone suitable to volunteer we would try to give the patient blood from another man to save him."

"How often did it work?" Will asked as he fastened the tubes to the stoppered glass jars.

"Not often," She admitted. "Some men died immediately, others took days and died of horrible fevers. But a very small few, those who shared certain traits with their donors..." she looked up smiling hopefully, "they fight in battles to this day still."

"I don't share much with him," Little John snorted.

"You might share enough," Djaq tutted. "Besides it is his last chance." She touched the back of her hand to the unconscious blond giant's pallid forehead. "Poor unfortunate man. He has nothing more to lose."

"So, you are going to bleed me then." John squirmed uncomfortably.

"In a way," Djaq explained as she swabbed his arm with strong spirits. "I will not lie to you John, this needle is blunt and it will hurt."

"Get on with it then...Umffff!" The large outlaw shot the Saracen healer an incredulous look as she slid the needle into his vein. 'You could have at least warned me."

Djaq said apologetically, "I figured it best not to see it coming."

She did the same to the other man with little registered discomfort from him and nodded to Will. "All right, let us try this."

The craftsman pushed gently on the plunger and they watched expectantly as the thick ruby liquid flowed from John's arm to Legrand's.

"He doesn't seem to be in pain," Will supplied as he continued to move the handle slowly.

"That is a good sign for now." Djaq seemed pleased. "His colour is coming back."

John broke in. "When will this be over? I'm feeling a little light-headed."

"We need to stop then, best to leave you some as well," she teased.

Will stopped pumping and she removed the tubes from the men's arms and bandaged their wounds.

Djaq focused on Little John. "You need to rest. You will be weak for a couple of days."

The large outlaw nodded, "I will rest here, beside him. That way you can rest too. I will call for you if there is any change."

He climbed into the already crowded bunk next to the sleeping knight and Will mused to himself how it looked like two grown men sleeping in a very small child's bed. He pulled his lover close. "You need to sleep now, it's been a long night." He glanced at the pale, injured, oversized knight next to the now softly snoring, large outlaw. "You think he will make it?"

The healer leaned up and kissed her lover's lips softly. "I don't know. He is in Allah's hands now."

~~~O~~~

_The castle was larger than any place he had ever been, even larger and more grand than Nottingham. He was running down long hallways past magnificently furnished rooms, her voice trailing behind him. "Where are you big bear? Come out, come out, wherever you are!" She was closing in. He raced through the corridors even faster, his breathing getting harder. He made a wrong turn and faced a blank wall. She was right behind him and he was trapped like a bear in the forest. She came toward him, she smelled of an exotic mix of lavender and lust as her lips covered his own. He was cornered and didn't seem to mind much at all. Next to him he heard a loud gasp then a sharp moan..._

John woke up with the other man groaning next to him. He turned and felt the giant's forehead as he stirred weakly. He frowned at the slight fever on the knight's brow. "There -- you are all right."

Legrand's eyes fluttered open then enlarged. "I live?"

"Yes, you are alive."

"That Saracen woman..."

"Djaq," Little John finished. "She is a healer. She saved your life."

"One of them... saved one of us..." The blond giant's mind had a hard time connecting the logic. "But our people are enemies."

"Not all of us." John looked up at the unexpected voice to see the young Saracen looking at them with a cup in her hand. She focused on Legrand with large moist eyes. "Some of us seek only to preserve life, not take it. How are you feeling?"

The blond knight tried to laugh but it came out as a choking sound. "Like I took several arrows to the chest."

"Four to be exact and the sheriff's dagger as well." She came over and felt his forehead.

John leaned in. "He is feverish."

Djaq smiled as she tended the injured knight's dressings. "Do not worry, it is a good fever, John. He will be fine, thanks to you."

The blond man looked from the Saracen woman to the other giant. "Thanks to you? But I thought she...?"

"I just patched you up," Djaq smiled. "John gave you something even more precious. He gave you his blood."

"Your blood flows through my veins?" Legrand marvelled at his friend with a wide grin. "That makes us 'frères de sang', blood brothers."

John chuckled. "I never looked at it like that before. I guess it does."

"Drink this." Djaq tilted the cup to the injured man's mouth. The outlaw held the knight's head as he swallowed the vile concoction.

Legrand pulled a face. "I think I would rather die once more than drink that again."

Djaq clucked at her impatient patient. "It will help with the pain, now you must rest. Come John, let us go get something for you to eat."

"Can you stay with me till I sleep again?" Legrand caught the older man completely by surprise at his insistence. His voice sounded more like a scared child than a member of the King's private guard.

The large outlaw took the blond man's hand, instantly reminded of the night he spent calming Little Little John in Nottingham's dungeon. "I will stay." He nestled in next to Legrand. "You are a brave man."

"I've never been this close to death before." The knight turned to the outlaw. "I'm scared, John."

"You will survive this. A stronger man, I never knew."

The blond giant leaned into his new friend. "You are the stronger man. Our queen calls you 'big bear'." The draught was quickly taking effect as he grinned a silly grin and slurred the words again, "Bigggggggggg bearrrrrrrr. Je t'aime bigggggg bearrrrrrrrrrr." Before John could object the large knight pulled him close and their lips connected.

"Here now, none of that! You are too injured," John looked at the heavily medicated man, "And obviously not in your right mind."

"Vos yeux sont si jolissssss." Legrand kissed the surprised outlaw again before he could stop him. His lips were still firmly pressed to John's when the snoring started.

The older man pulled away and gently slipped out of the bed, pulling the covers over the now soundly sleeping knight. "Sleep well, my brother."

He had a few choice words to say to his friend. He walked up to where Djaq and Will were exchanging small talk, over their food, by the fire. "What the heck did you put in that draught you gave him anyway?"

Djaq looked up at the unamused giant searching his eyes. "Some willow bark and comfrey for the pain and Valerian root to help him sleep. Why, is he all right?"

"Oh he is fine," John snorted as he made his way to where the food was, wiping his mouth. "Question is whether I will ever be again."

~~~O~~~

Recovery was slow and painful for the French born knight. Each step was agonising for a man who prided himself on his strength. Although the walks in the forest had grown longer with his new friend, he was still impatient at the slow pace of his progress.

"You are doing well. Just a little further," John cheered the injured warrior along.

Legrand shot a pained expression at the older man. "I am not a child, mon ami." He groaned from fatigue. "Quoique je me sente comme un chaton faible."

"Come again?" the outlaw giant asked.

"I said I feel like a weak little kitten," the blond knight spat.

"Djaq says it will take you a while to get your strength back."

"How long?" The knight stopped and looked at his friend as he guided him. "The Queen will be leaving soon and I must join her."

The large outlaw had already talked to Robin and Queen Eleanor at great length. Legrand would not be happy. "We will talk about it later."

~~~O~~~

"Stay here! Among outlaws and highwaymen?" Legrand remembered himself and glanced at John, "No offence, my brother."

"None taken," John grumbled.

"Protectors of the King's realm, young knight! And you should be honoured to serve under Lord Locksley." The matriarch glared at the Frenchman. She was not used to being talked back to.

Legrand kneeled. "I am, your majesty, but I was just under the impression I would return to France with my queen."

"You are too weak to travel, Legrand. And Robin could use the extra help." She turned sharply to the outlaw leader and swatted him on the head.

"Oww, what was that for?" Robin rubbed his head and squinted.

"For letting your poor manservant go back to war! And with Carter no less!" She smiled at her son's favourite guard cheekily. "Quite the education he is going to get from that one!"

"He chose to go back of his own free will, Your Highness. He is on a mission to tell your son of his brother's treachery."

"I know what he goes back for, Robin." She tutted, straightening her robes, "Love does make men do strange things." Her last remark left the leader slightly puzzled, but she left it open. "Anyway, Legrand, this isn't a punishment, just a delay. When you are well and all this is behind us, you... and Sir John... if he wishes, will come to Poitiers as members of my personal guard."

"Sir John?" the large outlaw muttered under his breath.

"Yes, that will come later, big bear," she grinned. She leaned in and whispered, "You see, A queen isn't allowed to consort with commoners and I do intend to 'consort' with you." She pinched John's rear to emphasize the point, making the outlaw's cheeks glow red.

"Milady!" he sputtered.

"Oh, for a big man he does embarrass easily," she remarked to the young Saracen girl.

Djaq giggled as she curtsied, "Milady."

The older woman dispensed with all formality and embraced her. "You, young lady, are a very smart, brave girl. I would love to have you as court physician someday." She broke the embrace and held her at arms length. "How could I ever repay you for saving the life of one of my favourite soldiers?"

"If I may speak out of turn, Your Highness," Djaq focused her limpid brown eyes on the monarch. "Let your words of peace in my home country reach your son's ears."

"Oh if it were that easy, my child." The queen mused pityingly, "I did give birth to some very stubborn, headstrong men." She lifted the girl's chin with her finger. "It would be so much better if us women ran the world would it not?" She glanced over to the craftsman next to her. "Perhaps when this is all over, I will be invited to the wedding?"

It was Djaq's turn to blush. "I am sorry, my lady?"

Will put his arm around the Saracen healer and smiled. "It would be an honour, Your Majesty."

"Then I am off," the monarch said smiling. "John, my horse please?"

The outlaw helped the monarch onto her steed, grunting softly as she took her time running her hands along his shoulders. "Such a strong man," she whispered, delighting in his discomfort as the others watched in amusement.

Robin walked over to the Queen Mother. "You should follow the road back down to the coast. There will be a boat moored for you at the headlands. Then Legrand's friends will sail you to your friends in Ireland and then back home to France."

"Poor Legrand," Eleanor replied as she looked at her loyal knight hobbling back toward camp with Djaq.

"We will look after him for you till he can return home. Don't worry."

"He is a hero, as are you all. Thank you. King Richard will know of your bravery and sacrifice in helping me."

Robin leaned forward and kissed her hand, "Your Majesty."

The queen turned to the gentle giant and kissed his head. "Remember your invitation, big bear."

John squirmed uncomfortably, meeting the other outlaws' grins with a glare.

The Queen produced a velvet sack of coins and tossed it at the outlaw leader. "My contribution."

Robin sputtered, "Your Majesty, I can't take this."

"Why not? I am rich and the poor are poor." She grinned slyly at the remaining outlaws, "Isn't that where you come in?"

"Right lads. Come on," Robin replied smiling. They all bowed as the queen rode away.

The outlaws left the clearing. John stopped and turned around, meeting the monarch's gentle gaze. He sputtered and ran to join the others, knowing he would see her again.

~~~O~~~

"You know, there's something about Sherwood," Legrand said as he struggled to keep up with the others while Djaq supported him.

"It's home," Will supplied, looking back and winking at his girlfriend.

Legrand finished, "I might learn to like it here."

In unison the other outlaws turned to him, "Can you cook?"

"Mes amis, you think I would have gotten this big if I couldn't?" he shot back with a bellowing laugh.

"Then I guess you can stay, mon ami," Robin mused looking at the horizon. "It's nearly sunset and I know plenty of people who will be grateful for Queen Eleanor's money."

"So John..." Djaq chided, "planning on visiting Aquitaine any time soon?"

The large man snorted, his cheeks glowing, "You're all jealous."

"The Queen Mother fancies you, 'Big Bear'," Will finished, to the accompanied laughter of the other outlaws.

Robin, Djaq and Legrand joined in, "Big Bear!"

The outlaw leader landed a playful kick to the giant's backside and John in turn, yelled "Right!" and tackled Robin to the ground. Djaq and Will piled on top of the two men and joined in, as the knight stood over them all laughing.

Legrand felt the regrets of being left behind by his men and his queen disappear as he watched the camaraderie of the outlaws. He was going to enjoy being a member of the gang.


	28. I'm Your Boy

**Summary**: Allan receives a surprising night visitor. Set right after 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan/Guy  
**Mentions**: Marian, Robin, Sheriff Vaizey, Queen Eleanor  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre: **Slash

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: I'm Your Boy**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Gisborne staggered the significant distance from The Trip to Allan's door in almost complete darkness. That he was able to make it at all was due to sheer muscle memory rather than any sense of location, grace or even balance. Guy's world had almost ended and he needed more comfort than the spirits at the inn would provide.

A visit to Marian was out of the question, to visit a noblewoman in his present condition was unheard of and he himself would not allow it. Besides he was beyond redemption this night and he needed the solace of a fellow soul that shared his misery. Allan answered the dull knock at the door confused and rubbing his eyes.

"Gis... Wot the--?" The hand over his mouth stifled his question as the door closed behind them and he found himself pinned under 12 stone of drunken, black knight.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhh," Guy blurted out placing his finger playfully over the former outlaw's lips. "Don't want the castle guards to hear."

"You're..."

"Drunk." Gisborne finished removing himself from the tangle of limbs long enough to fish the bottle of wine from under his cloak. "Play your cards right and you will join me." He grinned salaciously.

"Good wine?" Allan asked with an upturned brow. His sleep was ruined already, he figured he might as well enjoy it.

~~~O~~~

"I don't have anybody, the gang was everything to me." Allan's speech was slightly slurred by the strong wine as he looked pityingly at his master.

"I had... have a sister... Isabella," Guy responded as he took a quick swig and stared at the phantom face of his 10 year old sibling floating before his eyes.

"No kiddin'?" It was pure reflex. Allan had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Gisborne being anything but a bitter only child.

Gisborne continued his alcohol-fuelled memoir. "Our parents died when she was young. I was just a teenager myself. I tried to take care of her. We were poor and unwanted. After what our mother did... no one would have the children of an adulteress." He looked Allan in the eye with only the slightest hint of misgiving. "I sold her to the wealthiest man that would have her, Allan."

"You sold your own sister? C'mon, Gis, that's low, even for you." Allan wished at times like this he would keep his mouth shut, but the words were out. He winced, anticipating the back of Guy's hand but felt nothing.

"We were starving, I had no choice." Guy fixed the former outlaw with a level stare. "You know all about running out of options, I'm sure."

Allan knew only too well. "I'm sure she forgave you."

"She's a wealthy woman now." Guy smiled. "Marian reminds me so much of Isabella. She was so headstrong and so confident."

"That she is," Allan nodded, not sure where the conversation was taking them.

"I need more than confidence, Allan. I need loyalty. I need... I need someone to depend on me and let me take care of them." To Allan's surprise, Gisborne reached out and stroked his sharp jawline. "I need you to need me, Allan. From the time you first came to me I could tell you were hungry as I am, not just for power and gold but for more, for somewhere and someone to belong to."

The poacher looked at his master, unsure. "Ahh mate, you got me all wrong. It must be the ales talking. I just wanted to work for you, Gis." He braced himself for harsh words or worse.

Gisborne studied the former outlaw. "No, you want more than to be just like me." He lifted the young man's chin to his. "Don't you, Allan?"

The former outlaw blushed at the revelation. He thought about how many nights he let his mind wander and rewrite the cruel encounters with his master in a more pleasant light. He nodded somberly. "I did... I do."

Allan's mind shut down at the sudden insistent pressure of lips on his as the man who once sought to give only pain turned himself over to pleasure. Allan blinked and caught his breath. "Not bein' funny, Gis, but I think you got me mistaken for Marian."

Guy looked down at his manservant. "I can never fully trust Marian again after what she did. I need someone I can trust. Someone who can look after me and has my back." He ran his gloved finger alongside Allan's sharp cheek. "I need my boy. Are you my boy, Allan?"

Allan nodded dully as he was pulled in for another kiss. His thoughts raced in near panic as he tried to comprehend what was happening. "Yes, Gis... I'm your boy."

Clothes were shed in a haphazard manner as Allan wrestled with the taller man to release him from his trappings. Guy could have used a bath but Allan didn't care as he took in the scent of his lover mixed with the heady smell of leather and alcohol. Allan slid his hands down Guy's naked, pale chest and hissed as the older man ran his stubbled chin up the nape of his neck. Guy then grabbed his servant by the back of the head and pulled the former outlaw's lips to his own, devouring his mouth hungrily. Allan could taste the need and desperation and even though he was used to things not being so gentle with his master in this situation, he knew this was going to be rough in a different sort of way. Before, he would crumple at Guy's feet and whimper half-pleas for mercy, now this tenderness was something he was completely unprepared for.

This time it was Guy begging for comfort, Guy pleading for gentleness and affection. It was tender and more than Allan dreamed it could be with this unlikely lover. He looked down at the winter blue eyes made red with drink and wondered if Marian knew just what she was missing out on in playing her tragic little games._ Fire and ice,_ Allan thought as he felt himself and his partner getting closer and awaited the fullness of his lover's seed,_ there is just no middle ground with this man._ He stifled his cries of pleasure as he spilled over Gisborne's hand. Allan collapsed on top of the black knight then lay beside him as their breathing slowed.

"Tell anyone about this night, Allan, and you'll be a dead man."

"Not bein' funny, but I don't think anyone would believe me if I did." Allan stared up at the vaulted ceiling and smiled.

"I guess you are right," Gisborne mused as he propped his arms behind his head.

Allan took this as a sign and without asking, plopped his head into the crook of Guy's neck. He was surprised when he was met with a satisfied smirk rather than annoyance or outright hostility from the violent man.

"Sodomy is a sin against God. We should be burned at the stake for what we just did," Guy cautioned.

"I won't tell him if you won't, Gis." Allan made patterns on his master's smooth chest playfully with his finger.

Guy turned his face to look down at his suddenly adoring lover. "I never thought I would end up like this... with you."

"Me, neither," Allan lamented. "Not bein' funny, but a fella could get used to seein' this side of you, Gis."

Guy snorted, "Can't have than happen now can we?" He suddenly got out of the bed and started dressing, to the younger man's disappointment.

"So, you're leaving, just like that."

Guy smirked at his dissatisfied servant. "Get some sleep, Allan. We have a long day tomorrow."

"And Marian...?" Once again, Allan regretted his hair trigger tongue as his master froze.

"Has a long way to go to regain my trust in her." Guy turned and leaned in to the younger man. "I no longer have to worry about that with you. Do I?"

Allan reached his arms around Guy and pulled him into another eager kiss. "As I said Gis, I'm your boy."

Gisborne returned to his staid self and peeled Allan's arms away. He still had a slight smirk on his face as he finished dressing. "Allan..."

"I know Gis, not a word or I'm charcoal."

Guy smiled at the repeated threat from his cheeky manservant. "No, I just wanted to say that when I asked Marian to stay in the castle and make these dreary walls bearable, it wasn't just her I wanted to stay." His expression changed and he was all business again. "Stables...at noon. The sheriff is eager to get word to Prince John."

"About what?" Allan replied, arms behind his head.

"Don't ask too many questions, Allan, but I will tell you that it has to do with sending a message to the king about Hood and the Queen Mother."

Allan frowned as he lay back down on the bed. He paused at the thought of why the sheriff wanted to send a message about Queen Eleanor and Robin but considered it wiser to hold his tongue. By some miracle he'd culled his master's favour again. He would try his best not to lose it.

Still, he couldn't betray the little voice in the back of his head as he turned to sleep. He had already betrayed the gang and sided with the enemy. Now he happily bedded the man he once feared and hated and brutalized the man he once loved. His ties to his former friends in the forest slipped more it seemed, with each passing day. He had already joined the dark side. How much farther would he be willing to go?


	29. Complicated

**Summary**: Allan wants Djaq to relay information to Robin about Guy and the Nightwatchman. Set right after 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan, Djaq  
**Mentions**: Robin, Guy, Marian, Will  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Gen

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Complicated**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

What would he say? Would he stand by and let Marian stay at the castle?_ Let her stay?_ _Not bein' funny_, Allan thought, _like even Robin could control Marian when she put her mind to something._

Would Robin even believe one word he said? Would he even let him talk... or just kill him first? He had a feeling he knew what Will would do. Will wouldn't listen to him, not to say he couldn't blame him. But Djaq... maybe Djaq would talk to him.

Allan spurred his horse deeper into Sherwood galloping away from Nottingham as fast as the animal would take him. It wasn't the heat of the summer's day that caused the sweat to trickle down his face and burn his eyes. No, it was the vivid memory of the heart-pounding chase at the castle after he'd donned the Nightwatchman's mask and cape. That had been close. Too close. Not that he wouldn't do it again to help Marian.

He had to find Djaq. He needed the gang to know that he'd saved Marian. More importantly, he needed them to know that Gisborne knew about the 'man' behind the mask. He might be Gis' boy, but no matter what Robin said, no matter that Will could barely stand the sight of him, he wouldn't turn his back on his friends.

_Gis' boy..._ he still wondered if it was just the black knight's drunken stupor that led him to his bed. He'd been so gentle, so tender, making Allan feel like there was no one else in the world that he cared for so deeply. He wondered if the wine and heat of passion had addled his own brain. Maybe it was just a dream. _Damn... it didn't feel like a dream._ The feel of the saddle against his arse massaged by the steady rhythm of the horse's gait reminded him of Gis pulling him close so hard flesh met hard flesh. Silently he cursed himself — how could he be thinking of his own urges when Marian was in trouble. Damn woman.

Taking the last half mile on foot, Allan approached the outlaw camp cautiously. He scanned the thickly forested path and suddenly felt the tip of a sharp blade at his back. "Oi!" he said, slowly raising his hands above his head.

"Allan A'Dale!"

Allan sighed and turned around. "Djaq! Am I glad to see you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Robin."

Djaq lowered her blade and gave Gisborne's man a sympathetic look. "Do you think that is a good idea? He told you to stay away from the camp. He'll kill you, and then Will may kill you again."

"I know, but it's important, Djaq. It's about Marian."

Djaq paled, her dark eyes intense. "Is she all right?" A spy in the castle was a boon for the outlaws but there were awful risks. Marian knew this life she'd chosen was dangerous. Robin knew it, too. Djaq pushed back thoughts that those decisions had come back to haunt her and wondered if Robin's reaction might be more dreadful than Marian's fate.

"You need to tell Robin. Maybe he'll think better of me--"

Djaq shifted impatiently and sighed heavily giving the former outlaw a would-you-just-spit-it-out kind of look.

"I saved Marian."

"What?"

"Guy knows about the Nightwatchman," Allan blurted out. "He caught Marian trying to steal from the stores in Locksley."

This could be bad, Djaq thought. Really bad. "Gisborne knows? And she's still alive?"

"Yeah. The sheriff thought we captured the Nightwatchman. Guy ordered a hangin' but I put on the cape and mask and caused a bit of a stir. Sheriff dinnit know it was me. I escaped before the soldiers caught up to me. It was all Guy's idea."

"Gisborne put you up to this?"

"Yeah, 'e did. Maybe he's not all bad. Like me... not all bad. We both saved her."

Djaq could see Allan's mind working, knew how he desperately wanted to be in Robin's favour again. It nearly broke her heart to see him like this. "Why didn't you bring Marian back to the forest?"

"She innit gonna listen to me, Djaq," he said dryly. "She trusts Guy."

"And do you?"

Allan shrugged. Guy said he didn't trust her but-- "He loves her."

Djaq looked down at the herbs in her hand. She needed to make more of the balm for Legrand's wounds. "I must get back to the camp before I am missed."

"Would you tell Robin?"

"No." The curt answer sounded harsh to her own ears and she knew what Allan's response would be.

"What! Why not?" he shouted pitifully, his gaze shifting restlessly. "I thought you were my friend, Djaq."

"What good would it do?" she reasoned. "Robin would rush off to the castle and only cause more problems. He can be so hot-headed--"

"Don't I know. But if he knew that if it wasn't for me Marian would be dead... if he knew I saved her life... maybe he'd let me come back to the gang." Allan's blue eyes pleaded with hers. "Djaq--"

"Marian is more good to us at the castle. And you..." Djaq pursed her lips. "I still believe in you, Allan, but you've done some bad things. We needed those food stores for the poor and you handed them right back to Gisborne."

"Look, yeah, I feel bad about that," he admitted. He perked up, anxious to have Djaq share more news with the outlaw leader. "Ya' know he turned out all the villagers in Locksley?"

"What?"

"The mercenaries 'ave moved in. The sheriff has set Locksley up as a garrison."

Djaq faced flushed. Those food stores they'd intercepted--that's where they'd been headed. Enough to feed an army. "So there are even more of them?"

"More? Wot' you mean?"

"We ran into others with the sheriff. I don't have time to explain." The gang was still exhausted after their run-in with the small band of mercenaries who were tracking Queen Eleanor. She was safely away but there was still Legrand to tend to. The Frenchman's injuries would have killed most men. His recovery would be slow, slower if she didn't get back to prepare the herbs she'd gathered to help the healing process. "I must go."

"Djaq--" He wondered if she might shed light on Guy's mysterious reference to Robin and the Queen Mother but she interrupted before he could speak.

"I trust you, Allan. You haven't led the sheriff to the camp. But Robin feels betrayed. And Will, I don't understand why Will--"

A pang of remorse made Allan choke up. He clenched his fist, desperately wishing he could set things right... with Robin... with Will. "Tell Will I'm sorry. I've tried. He won't listen. I don't want you to hate me. If I could change what happened..."

"Would you tell me w--"

"Not my place to say." Allan shook his head. "Ask Will. And next time we meet I hope you won't run me through with that sword before you start askin' questions."

"It cannot be that bad," she said. "Good-bye, Allan." Djaq turned to go.

"So you won't tell Robin? About Marian?"

"It would be better if Marian chooses to leave on her own. She does not need to be dragged from the castle kicking and screaming. Talk to her. Convince her to leave. Tell her that trusting Gisborne to keep her secret is dangerous."

"I don't know--"

"Robin would run in there like a fool, Allan. A man in love can do stupid things."

_A man in love... or a desperate man who ends up hurting the one he loves,_ Allan thought.

Djaq could tell that Allan still wasn't convinced. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Robin could end up getting them both killed."

"He's gonna find out, Djaq." Allan tried to reason with her though deep down he knew what she said made sense.

"Who would tell him? You?" she chided him. "You can't get close enough to Robin without risking getting your throat slit, and you've told me that Will would do the same. So who? Gisborne? Or do you think Marian will tell him the next time he sneaks into the castle for a visit?"

Allan sighed. "I s'pose not. You're right again."

"Irritating, isn't it?" she said playfully. "Watch after Marian. She cares for you. She'll have your back, too."

"She already does," he said quietly as Djaq kissed him on the cheek then turned back toward the camp. His gaze followed the densely wooded path where she disappeared amongst the trees, then he turned and stared back in the direction of Nottingham. This time he didn't have Will to pull him in the right direction but oddly enough, he didn't need Will to tell him where that direction lay. This time what was right had to be the long way 'round. Things were complicated. He'd made a mess of his life... with Will, with the gang. Marian was going to need a friend in the castle. And Guy... that man was just a mystery at the moment. Sure it would be easy to chuck it all and let the wood swallow him up. But for once, Allan decided to put others before himself. They all needed him in their own way whether they realized it or not.


	30. Sent Away

**Summary**: Legrand remembers being sent away from and by people he has loved... Set between 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation" and 2x12 "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Legrand, Queen Eleanor, King Richard, Little John  
**Mentions**: Carter, Robin  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Gen, hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: Sent Away**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"You're sending me away?"

_It's because of Thierry, isn't it?__  
_  
Legrand's mother sighed. "No, my son. I'm sending you to uphold the honour of our family name at the Queen's court. It's time you proved yourself in the world. I have written to the Queen asking for you to join her Guard. Once she sees what a good fighter you are," _and such a handsome young man too_, she thought, "I'm sure she will accept you. Then you can win your spurs and take up your father's title with pride."

"Yes, mother."

"Don't worry, I won't be sending you on your own..."

His heart leapt - maybe she didn't know after all.

"Luc will go with you as your manservant."

"Luc," he said, bitterly.

"Yes, Luc - he is a good servant and has been with our family for many years. Your... groom will stay here." Her face softened slightly as she saw his disappointment. She came over to him and put her hand on his cheek. "_Mon cher_, you are still a very young man. Thierry is a handsome boy and I know you have spent a lot of time with him growing up but the affection between you is just a childish infatuation. You will meet many beautiful women at Queen Eleanor's court and who knows, in time maybe one of them will become your wife and help you carry on our name."

"I am not a child," Legrand said, petulantly, giving the lie to his words. "And neither is Thierry - we love each other!"

"No!" His mother slapped him across the face. "Whatever it may be, it is _not _love - he is a common stable boy and you are a noble! Never forget that! If you insist in this... _perversion _at least let it be with your own kind."

Legrand blinked furiously, determined not to cry in front of her. "Yes, mother. I'm sorry."

~~~O~~~

"Well, stand up then - let's take a look at you."

Legrand rose from his knees and watched apprehensively as Queen Eleanor approached him and then walked behind him. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman even given her advancing years and eight children. Her brown eyes sparkled with what he would later come to learn was an inherent sense of mischief.

The sudden pat on his rear made him jump slightly._ Did she just...?!_

"Your mother said you had grown into a fine young man, Legrand, but her letter didn't do you justice." She came round to stand in front of him again. "How old are you?"

"N-nineteen, Your Majesty."

"Ah, nineteen, such a delicious age."

"Yes, Your Majesty, though I would like to grow older." He bit his tongue but the words were out none the less.

She laughed and it was very unlike his mother's detached amusement. This was the full-blooded laugh of a woman with power.

"Very good! You have your father's wit, Legrand. I approve. He always was one of my favourites." She picked up a letter from her table. "Your mother also says she hopes you will one day find a suitable wife among the ladies of my court."

She didn't miss the sudden look of pain on his face though he quickly masked it. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Well, there will be plenty of time for that. Go report to the master of my Household and see about a uniform, then come back here. I shall have you wait on me at dinner and we'll... _talk _later."

He bowed carefully and backed out of the room. Once the door shut behind him, he leaned against it, breathing hard. Delaroche, the Guard Captain, was coming down the hall towards him and Legrand snapped to attention as soon as he saw him.

Delaroche took in his nervous sweat and red face and smiled, not unkindly. "So, the Queen's approved your admission to the Guards?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Funny, she usually goes for dark hair, not blonds." Delaroche laughed at the shocked expression on the tall young man's face. "Welcome to the Royal Guard, Legrand. We guard the Royals from everybody else and ourselves from the Royals!"

~~~O~~~

"You're sending me away?"

_It's because I can't love you like you want, isn't it?_

Eleanor sighed. "No, Legrand, I am sending you to help protect my son Richard - who means more to me than anything in the whole world. You are my strongest and bravest knight and it would give me great comfort to know you are with him. He will be leaving shortly with Young Henry and Geoffrey. I will remain here and try to rally some support for Young Henry amongst the Southern nobles before joining my sons and you, in Paris. I only hope the King does not catch wind of our plans."

"If I've failed you in any way, Your Majesty..."

"You have never failed me in any respect and I do not expect you to do so now. I'm sure Prince Richard will appreciate you just as much, if not more, than I do."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry."

~~~O~~~

"Well, stand up then - let's take a look at you."

Legrand rose to his feet as Prince Richard strode forward and walked swiftly round him. He had the same predatory gleam in his eye that Legrand remembered from his first meeting with the Queen. Though not as tall as Legrand, the young Prince was already taller than most other men and his stature, good looks and already proven military prowess made him possessed of the self-confidence and presence of a man many years older.

"How old are you now, Legrand?"

"Twenty three, Your Majesty."

"My mother seems to think you will make a good addition to my Personal Guard," Richard told him. "I have to admit I'm surprised she's let you go, but then she always did spoil me."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Richard eyed the large knight appreciatively. He'd seen him many times in his mother's company at Poitiers but only recently had started to notice just how handsome his mother's favourite actually was. He'd tried to be subtle when asking the Queen about her Champion but she'd obviously spotted his deeper interest and decided to indulge his wishes.

"Go find a billet and then come back for dinner. We never really had a chance to... _talk _at Poitiers." Richard winked at him and Legrand coloured slightly before bowing and retreating from the tent.

_Big, blond and __unless I'm mistaken, not entirely unwilling - think we'll keep him around for a while, _Richard thought.

~~~O~~~

"You're sending me away?"

_It's because I'm not as young as I once was, isn't it?_

Richard sighed. "No, Legrand, I'm sending you on a very important mission because I trust you more than anyone else in this matter."

"Your Majesty, I'm honoured by your trust but surely my place is here! I may not be your youngest knight but I can still beat any man in the camp in fair combat. Perhaps one of your less experienced Guards..."

"No Legrand, your experience is what this mission requires. I would have sent Carter were he here but in his absence you are my next best alternative."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Legrand choked down his bitterness at being described as next best to anyone, let alone the young, good-looking Englishman who had most recently captured Richard's affections. "And you can't tell me what '_Thesaurus Patriae_' is?"

"No, it's too dangerous for anyone to have that information right now, but you and Robin will figure it out between you at the right time, I'm sure."

"Are you sure you can still trust Robin, Sire? The reports from England..."

Richard cut him off, sharply. "Jealousy is not an attractive trait, Legrand. I have as much faith in Robin as my mother has in you. See that you do not let either of us down." Richard caught his breath - had he said too much? Legrand gave no sign of having realised the deeper connection between his King's words and the mission he'd been entrusted with.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry."

~~~O~~~

"Well, stand up then - let's take a look at you."

He got shakily to his feet, wrinkling his nose at the peasant's cloak around his shoulders.

"Perfect!" Little John clapped him lightly on the back and laughed. "Even if the Sheriff does spot you in town he'll never think you're the same man he skewered at Midsummer. Your own mother wouldn't recognise you!"

John's casual mention of his mother made Legrand's memory fly back to his youth and another brown-eyed peasant he had once loved. He looked at John in sudden shock.

"Whoa! You've gone white as snow!" John hastily grabbed his arm and Legrand's heart started beating again.

"No, I'm fine. You're right - she wouldn't." _And she definitely wouldn't approve of you - what am I thinking?!_

"Maybe it's still too soon to have you up and about - you should go back to the camp."

"No, John, I'm fine. Please... don't send me away."


	31. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

**Summary**: Marian hasn't seen Robin since their rendezvous in Sherwood when she told him that the sheriff was turning Locksley into a garrison for his mercenaries. Guy knows about the Nightwatchman. Does Robin know her secret is out? And if he doesn't, should she explain Guy's involvement in the Nightwatchman's 'escape'? Set shortly after 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian  
**Mentions**: Robin, Guy, Allan  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **Angst

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One: ** **Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Marian traced a finger around her lips. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply trying to remember the scent of him. Earthy... woodsy... the smell of leaves crushed against his back -- her head cradled against his chest when they'd lay back and stare up through the tree canopy at blue skies or diamond-studded nights. How long had it been? How long since their last embrace? His warm lips on hers... That last kiss felt like a lifetime ago. How could Robin make her feel that a thousand of those kisses would never satisfy?

Her heart pounded. She desperately wanted him here...

_Oh grow up!_ She scolded herself for thinking like a giddy young girl. She was irritated with herself but just as irritated with Robin. She'd told him of the mercenaries in Locksley. He'd promised to help the villagers. That had been days ago! _The king needed me,_ he'd ... seeking adventure and glory.

But... she'd had no word from him. Neither Guy nor Allan had mentioned his name. Allan knew how she felt. He would've said had something been amiss. Robin was all right, of that she felt certain.

If he was safe, if his mission for the king complete, surely he'd have heard about the Nightwatchman's daring escape from Nottingham. Surely he would wonder what mischief she'd been in. Surely he would be here... And if he were, would she wrap her arms around him or throttle him?

A shiver ran up her spine when she realized how much she dreaded that moment. How would she explain? He'd be aggravated that she'd donned the cape and mask and tried to steal the stores in Locksley. He'd be incensed that she'd stayed at the castle when Guy knew her secret.

Leaning against the turret wall, she gazed toward Sherwood. Why should his reaction upset her so? She knew what must be done. She could not tell him. He would never understand why she would stay... would never understand why she trusted Guy to keep her secret... never understand Allan's motives for helping. He would tell her that this was dangerous. _Ha! _she thought, as if his life was not. He would argue that she must leave, then try to cajole her. She could feel his eyes searching her soul, his fingers running lightly along her cheeks, his lips on hers again. Her breath hitched in her throat.

_He must not know._ Staying at the castle was the best decision for them all.


	32. A Mule in a Horse's Harness

**Summary**: Guy and Allan go to visit Prince John. Set shortly after after 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation".

**Characters/Pairings**: Guy/Allan, Prince John  
**Mentions**: Robin, Legrand, Marian, Will  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Genre: **Angst, Slash

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two: A Mule in a Horse's Harness**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"So this is your new toy, Gisborne?" John sneered as he fingered the buckles on the former outlaw's doublet. "You always did go for the rough trade."

Allan studied the unpleasantly fussy man under his blond lashes. The trip to London was not unpleasant but meeting the man Robin had preached against so many times by the campfire, he was beginning to believe the legend. The prince's touch made his skin crawl and made his master smirk with amusement at Allan's discomfort.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty? Allan is merely my manservant, nothing more."

"That's good then, isn't it?" Prince John studied the black knight like a cat would its prey. "Because sodomy is a sin and I would hate to put you to the torch." He continued to size up Allan. "Still, some things are worth the risk, aren't they?"

Guy blushed furiously. "Not to be disrespectful, Your Highness, but you asked to see me and I do not think it was to discuss my personal affairs."

"I will discuss with you what I see fit, Gisborne!" Although the prince's tone had changed to one instantly darker and more sinister, his voice had not raised one octave.

The point was not lost on Allan or Guy as they briefly exchanged glances. Guy spoke quickly and with more charm. "I did not mean to offend you, Your Majesty. What I meant was I know how valuable your time is and that we could get on with the trivialities of the meeting first." His eyes twinkled with unholy amusement as they brushed back over his nervous servant. "Then we could get on to more pleasant conversations about... prettier things."

Prince John smiled a weary smile as he ran the back of his hand against the former outlaw's smooth cheek. True, his attention was more drawn to a shapely ladies bosom or hips but a pretty young man had been known to turn his head once or twice as this one did now. The black leather Allan was wearing, in such an amusing echo of his master's, enhanced his fine delicate features..and other things, even more. "Yes, more pleasant things. Oh you are right, Gisborne." He turned and walked back over to the knight. Allan relaxed visibly and sighed under his breath. Bath time would have to come early tonight just to get the memory of the monarch's touch off his skin. "Business then. I understand our dear sheriff feels I should send my brother news of the incident in Sherwood."

"The sheriff says Hood attacked the Queen Mother and her private guard."

Hood attacked... Prince John put on his best distraught face, impressed at Vaizey's ingenuity.

"It seems that Hood had been informed of the queen's route. He'd turned one of her guards, the one known as Legrand," Guy continued.

"Mum's favourite knight?" John cried.

"The sheriff had to slay him to keep him from murdering Her Majesty."

Prince John feigned remorse and clutched a delicate silk handkerchief to his mouth. "She must have been heartbroken."

"Yes, Your Highness. If I may ask, what was the Queen Mother doing in the forest in the first place?"

Prince John frowned at his supporter's curiosity but smiled inwardly at Vaizey's loyalty for not telling his 'number one' man about his mother's imprisonment. "We had a 'misunderstanding of accommodations' at Pontefract Castle." He sniffed into his handkerchief and continued the theatrics. "The weather has been so hideous, I insisted she stay for an extended visit. She wanted to leave before spring to get back to her damn 'lavender farm'. Headstrong woman that she is, she had her royal guard spirit her away the first chance she got. Oh and then to have one of her men turn on her!" He looked at Gisborne with moist eyes. "You see, my mother doesn't love me like she does my siblings. It hurt at first when I found out, but I have learned to live with it." He focused on the hostile black knight. The brooding way Guy acted, the penchant for so much black leather, John spotted the neglected child inside the grown up man immediately. "You must also know how it feels to be unloved by a parent?"

Only the threat of the executioner's blade kept the black knight from backhanding the monarch at the mention of his parents. Instead he sneered, "I lost my family when I was still a boy."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss, Sir Gisborne." It was the first real emotion Allan had seen the monarch have since he met the man.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I would just be pleased to see that the sheriff's message gets sent. The king must know that even his closest confidants have obviously turned against him. Come on, Allan."

The former outlaw bowed to the monarch and quickly followed in the black knight's footsteps. As they turned a corner he was quickly pulled into an alcove and Guy's leather clad arm was at his throat. "Not a word about what you have seen and heard today, Allan. Is that understood?" The servant nodded, his eyes focused on the colourless ones of his master. The malice faded as Gisborne ran his fingers down the side of his servant's face. "You think I'm a fool, Allan?" Guy sneered. "I'm perfectly aware the man in that room is nothing more than a mule in horse's harness. But the truth is, he doesn't know that." He let his eyes dance over Allan's face as he spoke. "The plan is in place. Soon I will have money, position and power. Stay with me, Allan. Play the game and so will you."

"You actually trust these people, Gis? Trust him?"

"He is our prince and lord protector of England," Guy reasoned. "Not trusting him would be treason, would it not? Are you a traitor, Allan? Are you a traitor like Robin Hood?"

Allan bristled at the word. "I am no traitor!"

Guy patted the former poacher's face. "That's the right attitude." He grinned. "Keep it up and we will both get what we want."

~~~O~~~

The trip back to Nottingham was silent, somber, and made even more so by the unending torrent of rain. It had become difficult to ride the horses in the downpour, so the two men resorted to leading them as they walked through the forest. Allan was instantly taken back to another rainy day and another man with him. They'd held each other against the cold and damp and plotted their destiny that evening, so long ago. He missed those days. His life was now void and empty of colour. He felt lost in a world of gray and black, bad and worse, gloom and perpetual rain. When he closed his eyes at night, he saw the faces of his friends. They were always hurt and accusing. Sleep was becoming just another doorway to torment for the former outlaw.

Guy was equally lost in his own thoughts of power and lust for money. Marian had fast become relegated to another on the list of those he could only hold at arms length when he wanted to do so much more. Each day the battle deepened as he tried to make sense of who he could and couldn't trust. He looked around the woods for any sign of shelter and then tugged his animal's reigns at finding a dry spot. "We can stop here for a while till the rain lets up."

Allan said nothing but nodded as he also steered his horse over to the hollowed out large tree.

They tied the horses and went about starting a small fire to warm themselves. Allan coughed and sputtered as he blew the small amount of dried kindling from his pouch into flame. Guy snorted. "You can barely build a decent fire. How did you ever survive with Hood's men out in the woods?"

"Well I haven't had that much practice building a fire in the rain recently now, have I?" Allan still wasn't used to the banter he was beginning to share with the nobleman and still half expected to be backhanded for his cheek. He relaxed when Guy's only response was a sneer.

The fire started, Allan huddled against it for warmth. The rustle of wet leather caused him to turn. His cheeks reddened as he took in Guy's bare chest. "Not bein' funny, but what are you doing?"

"Staving off pneumonia. I suggest you do the same." Guy passed a glance over his servant. "Fetch the blankets out of your saddle bag."

Allan's stomach knotted but he quickly did as told. Before undressing he laid out dry blankets on the driest area next to the fire and then carefully removed his doublet. Guy pretended not to notice as he huddled under his blanket close to the fire. Allan laid his damp uniform over a limb and proceeded to curl up under his own blanket when Guy spoke. "Come here, let me warm you." It was gentle and almost fatherly. Allan nodded and curled up close to his master. Guy's flesh was cool at first, but instantly became heated against his.

Pale muscular arms wrapped around the former outlaw's thin frame as hands massaged his body. "Gis..."

"Shhhh, rest."

Allan marvelled that even as Guy said this, he could feel his master's growing hardness against the back of his braies. He knew slumber was the furthest thing from Gisborne's mind.

Guy moved against his servant, slowly and rhythmically. Allan turned in his arms and lips were silently pressed to his. As the kiss deepened the knight's tongue invaded his lover's mouth with want. Not a word was spoken but desire was instantly communicated through hands and mouths. Allan soon found his braies removed and felt Guy's stubbled chin as he ran it along his servant's neck.

"I want you, Allan," Guy hissed huskily into the blond servant's ear. Wordlessly, the former outlaw let his master explore him with his hands as fingers probed him intimately. The invasion made him gasp as he first tensed then relaxed at the sensation of fullness. Guy caught his lover's mouth in a bruising kiss as he continued to open him up. He moistened himself and then grasped Allan's thigh as he entered him from behind in one thrust that made them both groan.

Allan's vision was reduced to stars as searing pain gave way to a flood of warmth. He pressed against his lover. It was nothing like the alcohol-fuelled tryst in the castle. This time, it was gentle and almost caring and he leaned his head back and let his master take him with abandon. Guy matched his strokes deftly to his servant's hand on his own aching member. Allan felt himself growing closer with each thrust. He came in spurts into his hand as Guy released into him and they held each other silently as the waves of orgasm calmed. "My boy," Guy whispered as he smoothed Allan's blond hair over his perspiring forehead. "Tell me you're my boy, Allan."

"I'm your boy, Gis. You know that." Allan stared into the fire as his master's arms suddenly belonged to another man. He drifted off to sleep with Will's face in his mind.


	33. What Dreams May Come

**Summary**: Robin accidentally picks the wrong mushrooms for breakfast and Little John has some _very _interesting dreams... Takes place a few months after 2x11 "Treasure of the Nation" but before 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Little John/Legrand, Robin, Will, Djaq  
**Rating**: M  
**Warnings:** Slightly dub-con  
**Genre: **Slash

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three: What Dreams May Come**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"Right - I'll go to Clun," Robin said. "Djaq, Will - you take Locksley. Legrand, the supplies you and John need to take to Nettlestone are over there." Robin indicated a small pile of sacks with his bow then glanced around with a puzzled expression. "Where is John, anyway?" he asked.

"Washing - himself and his shirt. I saw him when I was shaving," Legrand said.

John slowly trudged up to the camp, his damp shirt slung over one shoulder. He sniffed the air as he entered the camp. "Mushrooms?" he asked Legrand, who was standing stirring a pot on the range.

"Yes. Robin gathered them earlier."

"Robin?" The large outlaw scoffed, regarding his leader with a slightly disbelieving stare.

"Don't look at me like that, John - I'm trying to help!" Robin complained.

"And Will and I got some fresh eggs so today we will break our fast like kings!" Djaq said happily.

John hung up his shirt near the fire then sat down heavily and held out his hand. "Give some here, then."

Legrand ladled out a bowlful of the mushrooms and handed it to him, then stood back and waited for John's reaction. He'd learned by now this would either be nothing (good), a nod (very good) or a glare (not so good but the food would still be eaten).

John swallowed the mouthful of mushrooms and said, grudgingly, "These aren't bad."

The French knight turned camp cook was visibly pleased at what, from John, was high praise indeed. "Thank you," he replied as he started dishing out the others portions and John took another spoonful.

"So, where are we..." the dark-haired man stopped mid-sentence with a worried look on his face.

Legrand frowned at him. "Is something wrong?"

John reached over and grabbed Robin's arm. "Don't eat that."

"What? I thought you said it was good?"

"What... what mushrooms did you pick?" John put down his bowl. He was blinking a lot and his forehead broke out in a light sweat.

"The same one's Much always gave us."

"And... none of them... had... red spots underneath?" John started to slur his words slightly, as if drunk.

The archer looked at his bowl with horror. "I didn't check," he said weakly. "They looked the same as Much's..."

"I guess Much knows his mushrooms better, doesn't he?" said Will.

Djaq ran over to John and studied his eyes. His pupils were far larger than normal, making his normally brown eyes appear almost black. "John? John! What do the spotted mushrooms do? Are they lethal? John?" She frantically shook his shoulders.

"No, don' kill you," he mumbled. "Just make things... Make things... "

"What, John? Make things what?"

John looked around with a dazed smile. "Yellow..." His eyes closed and he slowly toppled backwards off his seat and fell insensible onto the camp floor with a great thud.

"John!" Everybody leaped forward with the same shout. Djaq pushed them away. "Stand back - let him have air!" She knelt down and lifted one of John's eyelids, then placed her head on his chest and listened to his heart and breathing. "His heart is a little fast but other than that he seems fine. I think he just needs to sleep it off - there's nothing else we can do," she said helplessly.

"Give me a hand, _mes amis_." Legrand grabbed John under the arms as Robin and Will took a leg each and between them they managed to haul the sleeping giant up and onto his cot.

"We can't make the deliveries now, can we?" said Robin.

"Yes. Yes, we can. John would want us to." Will replied, sternly.

"You go. I will stay and care for John," the Frenchman said.

Robin thought for a long moment. "You're sure he'll be fine?" Djaq nodded. "Then we'll make the deliveries as usual. Will - you go to Nettlestone. Everybody back here by sundown. Understood?" They all murmured their consent.

_Sundown_, Legrand thought, as he stared at the unconscious outlaw. _That's a very long time to resist temptation..._

~~~O~~~

Legrand sat on the bunk next to John, watching his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, remembering the day his obsession had started.

The Frenchman had returned to the camp from another frustratingly slow walk with Djaq to find John sparring with Will and Robin, all three stripped to the waist in the summer heat, the younger men gradually beating John backwards with a succession of strikes from axe and sword. As Djaq and Legrand had entered the clearing, Robin and Will both looked round and John seized the opportunity to sweep the legs out from under his leader. All three had laughed and as Will helped Robin to his feet, the older man had looked over at Legrand, smiled and winked. "You can keep your fancy swords - eh, Legrand?"

Legrand had merely nodded, suddenly dry-mouthed and staggered to the nearest seat. His Saracen physician looked at him with concern but it wasn't his recent injuries that had made his legs go weak. He'd blamed his distant recollection of a kiss on the medicine he'd been given but now he realised with certainty that his Queen was not the only one who'd had her head turned by this rough outlaw. The realisation had come as quite a shock.

_A peasant! An _English _peasant at that! An unkempt, older, ill-mannered, uneducated, taciturn _thief_... with a good heart, strong arms and eyes the colour of burnished oak..._

Ever since that moment he'd been seized by a burning desire for the older man that he couldn't explain and which had only grown with each passing day and as his strength returned. When the Queen had commanded him to stay in England, Legrand had felt shamed that he'd somehow failed her but secretly pleased that his long forest walks in John's company would continue. He spent his days laughing and joking with the others but many of his nights were spent staring across the camp in bitter frustration at the feelings he could not rid himself of. When sleep did finally come, his dreams let him see what he knew he couldn't have in the waking world and it only made his obsession stronger.

John muttered something unintelligible and shifted his position slightly. Legrand saw the muscles in the outlaw's arms and across his chest tighten as he moaned and grabbed at his bedding. That simple movement made the knight's pulse quicken and his groin twitch. He tried to ignore the fantasies running through his mind but the longer he stayed this close to the object of his desires, lying there so... _available_, the harder it was not to act on his thoughts.

_I shouldn't... but I'll never have another chance like this. Maybe it will help get him out of my head, _Legrand told himself, knowing he was only trying to justify his growing hunger.

He leaned over and gently kissed John's lips before starting a small trail of kisses down the side of his neck and across his broad chest. He buried his face in John's neck, deeply breathing him in and gently rubbing his own smooth face against the other man's rough beard. Nearly all of Legrand's previous lovers had been nobles like him; clean shaven, smooth skinned, gently scented with lavender or roses or some other delicate fragrance. The English peasant's skin was deliciously warm and he smelled strongly of earth and wood, sweat and leather. There wasn't a single delicate thing about John and the tall Frenchman was both fascinated and aroused by him.

John suddenly woke from strange yet somehow pleasant dreams, slowly opened his eyes and frowned as he struggled to focus. He appeared to be on his bunk in the camp but the roof above him couldn't decide if it was three feet or thirty yards away. A pale face topped by fair hair swam into his vision.

"Legrand?" he said, thickly.

"Shh, John, relax. You're dreaming." Legrand said.

John wondered why he'd never noticed until now what a pleasing voice the younger man had.

"I am?" John tried to sit up but his arms felt like they belonged to someone else.

"You're fine. Go back to sleep."

John fought the growing heaviness in his eyes but it was a losing battle from the start. His head fell back onto the bunk as he lost consciousness again.

Legrand lightly rested his head against John's chest as Djaq had done earlier, listening to the steady beat of his heart, then, hardly daring to breathe, he slowly slid his hand down the Englishman's stomach and into his leggings, letting his touch gently roam through the thick coarse hair that he found there and curling it around his fingers. He moved his hand further down and softly cupped it against John, shivering as he felt the outlaw start to harden in response to his touch.

John moaned again and Legrand carefully wrapped his fingers around the older man's growing length while kissing his neck and chest, feeling John's chest muscles contracting under his lips as he continued to grab handfuls of blanket in his large fists. Legrand withdrew his hand and kissed his way down the trail of soft, dark hair leading down from the outlaw's navel. He gently untied John's leggings, tugging at the waist and John let out a noise that was half moan, half growl as his erection sprang free and Legrand took him into his mouth.

Legrand was amazed at the heat coming from John's body. He didn't know if it was a side effect of the mushrooms or just the Englishman's natural response but it increased the scent of John's arousal and therefore added to his own. He turned his hips slightly and as he started to move his head up and down in a steady rhythm against John's hardness, he freed his own rapidly swelling member from his breeches and started firmly stroking it, imagining it was the other man's hand giving him such pleasure.

John's hips started to lift against his mouth, seeking to drive deeper into his throat. Legrand could barely take him all as it was and he pressed down on John's hips with his other hand, forcing the outlaw back down against the bunk.

John's eyes half-opened as he came back to semi-consciousness and in his mind's eye the roof of the camp became the roof of his old cottage. He could almost feel Alice's long hair brushing against his legs as she hungrily swallowed him, her tongue swirling over and around the tip of his cock, driving him mad with lust and need. It was her favourite way to tease him before she would rise from her knees and straddle him, making him come in a matter of minutes.

He raised his hips from the bunk again, straining to meet her mouth and his vision suddenly shifted to the luxurious castle he had seen in his recent dreams. He and Eleanor were on large bed covered in silk sheets and John grinned wickedly at the knowledge he was being serviced by a Queen.

He reached down to run his fingers through her hair but as his hand found short hair and not long his eyes snapped open, the castle chamber became the Sherwood camp and he looked down to see Legrand's blond hair brushing against his stomach.

John stared at the younger nobleman in shock, then groaned as Legrand did something extremely pleasurable with his tongue.

_No, that's... not right... It's a dream... This has to be another dream..._ John told himself as he struggled to keep his focus against the colours and sensations flooding his senses. He gasped as the Frenchman grabbed the base of his cock in his fist and started licking and kissing up the length of his shaft, totally engrossed in his task.

_It doesn't feel wrong... It feels... wonderful_, John thought as he shuddered and his hips arched forwards. His breath was coming in ragged gasps by now and Legrand could tell he was close to coming. "God, that's good!" Legrand suddenly looked up and John realised he'd spoken out loud. "Don't... don't..." He saw the Frenchman's head start to come up as he spoke. "Don't stop, please!" he gasped.

Legrand smiled devilishly at him and went back to his ministrations.

John looked down at him, still slightly in shock. _He's... he's a good looking bloke, I suppose... and it's just a dream, right? A really, _really _good dream..._

Legrand gripped John tighter with his hand and swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before taking him fully into his mouth once more. John cried out at the sudden combined rush of sensations, his back arching from the bunk as he came harder than he could remember in a very long time. Legrand sucked and licked at John's throbbing member, greedily swallowing his hot seed as he came in great spurts.

John's entire body was tingling and a wave of euphoria made his head swim. He was aware of Legrand's hands by his head, the soft lips meeting his, the unfamiliar taste which must be his own scent still clinging to them. With some surprise, he found himself eagerly returning the kiss, his hand grabbing at Legrand's hair. The blond Frenchman growled and kissed him harder, his teeth gently biting at John's lips, then his neck.

John could feel Legrand's hardness against his stomach and almost without thinking he reached out and grasped the younger man's length with a surreal sense of detachment, feeling something so strangely familiar yet not part of himself.

Legrand moaned and he shuddered as he thrilled to the touch he had imagined only minutes previously. He thrust against John's hand with increasing urgency, swearing softly in French as John gripped him tighter, then his whole body went rigid as his orgasm suddenly hit him and he threw his head back and groaned with release as he came in hot pulses onto the Englishman's stomach.

John marvelled at the sensation of the warmth spreading across his stomach and each throb of the strange length under his fingers, then he felt Legrand's weight crushing his chest as the Frenchman collapsed against him, breathing hard. He struggled to remain conscious as his vision clouded and the blackness took him once more...

Legrand felt John's hand go slack and looked up to see his head slump back against the bed as he fell unconscious again. He softly kissed him. _I think you needed that, my love_, he thought. _I know I did..._

He lay his head against the older man's shoulder for moment, sighing with contentment before he suddenly sat up and looked at John lying insensible beneath him with sudden horror and self-loathing.

_My God! What am I doing? This man thinks I am his friend!_

He hastily climbed off and went to fetch a cloth...

~~~O~~~

"John? John - can you hear me?"

John's eyes snapped open as he felt the small hand gently slapping his face. "Wha'..? Where...?" He looked around in a daze and recognised Djaq standing beside him. "Djaq? What the...?"

Djaq looked at John with concern, noting the shock and confusion on his face as he looked down at himself and then around his bunk. "John, don't panic. You're safe. Whatever you were seeing wasn't real, it was a dream." She laid her hands soothingly on his chest.

"Not... not real?"

"No, you had some mushrooms and they made you see things, do you remember?"

"Mushrooms." John looked at her with utter bewilderment. It had all seemed so real. Well, parts of it anyway. "Yes, I remember." He flopped back on his bunk, suddenly feeling very tired and stared up at the roof. "Did you still make the deliveries?"

"Of course. Will went to Nettlestone instead while Legrand stayed here with you."

John sat up and looked over to the kitchen where Legrand, Robin and Will were busily preparing dinner. "I just hope he didn't mind having to babysit me," he said, thoughtfully.

"He said you were saying some very strange things and he practically had to sit on top of you at one point," Djaq laughed.

"Did he now?"

~~~O~~~

Legrand lay awake for a long time, wrestling with his conscience. Finally he got up with a sigh, wandered down to the brook and squatting down beside it, splashed cold water against his face and on the back of his neck.

"I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

Legrand froze as John's voice came from directly behind him - he hadn't heard a thing. He turned round slowly. John was standing only a few feet away, sternly glaring down at him with his arms folded across his chest, daring him to lie.

For the briefest of seconds Legrand considered trying to brazen it out but the guilt had been slowly consuming him all day. "No. How did you know?"

"I wasn't sure at first... but then I noticed bite marks in my shoulder when I put my shirt back on."

John uncrossed his arms and took a small step towards Legrand.

"What else did you do to me?" he demanded.

"What?"

"You... you... with your mouth..." John couldn't bring himself to say it. "_What else?_"

Legrand was horrified. He would never have even thought of it but of course John wasn't to know that. He felt sick to his stomach that the man he loved would think the worst of him.

"Nothing, John! Nothing! I swear... I swear on the Queen's life! That was all I did to you."

"Why? I _trusted _you. I thought you were my friend. For God's sake, I gave you my blood! Why would you do... _that _to me? I gave you no reason to think I would wish it." The hurt in John's voice was unmistakable and Legrand decided to come completely clean.

"I wanted you," he sighed.

John looked at him incredulously. "You what? You _wanted _me? _Me_?"

"I've wanted you for weeks and it was driving me to distraction and then this happened and... I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough." He stood up, closed his eyes and hung his head in shame. If John was going to hit him, he didn't even want to see it coming. "I betrayed your trust, John. I'll never forgive myself for that and I understand if you don't either. I'll leave tonight. Just please... don't tell the others why."

John clenched his fists, struggling with the impulse to unleash his anger on the man standing silently in front of him. Finally he let out a long breath and stared upwards through the trees, carefully considering his next words as his hands relaxed.

"No... I don't think you should go," he said. "I could have stopped you and I chose not to. I thought it must be another dream and I found it was a dream I welcomed, not a nightmare. It surprised me and I also realised if it wasn't a dream, then not only your actions were real." He sighed heavily. "You've... given me a lot to think about."

Legrand's heart leapt at the unlooked-for hope but he still could not bring himself to meet John's eyes.

"So... I do forgive you, Legrand. You will have to earn back my trust and I... will definitely need some time to think about what happened but I do forgive you. We all have our moments of weakness."

Legrand drew in a great rasping breath as he struggled to contain his tears. Suddenly and wonderfully John's arms were around him, holding him close. Legrand had expected John to react with anger, not compassion. The so-called peasant was more noble than many men Legrand had met who called themselves such.

John hugged him tightly. "To be honest, it's quite nice to feel wanted again - if in a _slightly _different way than I'm used to," he admitted, then his voice took on a sterner edge. "But if you ever do anything remotely like this again, or mention it to any of the others, I will break your arms. Understood?"

Legrand nodded.

"Good." John stepped back and released his hold on the shaken Frenchman. "Now let's go back to the camp - I don't know... I've spent most of today asleep and yet I'm still tired." He quickly turned and headed back up the hill.

Legrand watched John vanish silently into the moonlit forest and prayed he wasn't dreaming himself...


	34. Sticks and Stones

**Summary**: The Sheriff and Prince John have twisted the events of Queen Eleanor's rescue in Nottinghamshire and their message about what transpired at Midsummer has arrived at the King's camp in the Holy Land. This chapter takes place prior to and during the events of 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, King Richard, James  
**Mentions**: Robin, Legrand, the Gang  
**Rating**: PG-15  
**Genre: **Angst, hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Sticks and Stones...**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------  
The pavilion was crowded with the king's guard, twenty or so Knights Templar, and a handful of Hospitallers. Much was on the far side of the room refilling a pitcher of mead when the first whisper of Robin's name passed someone's lips at the king's table. Richard heard it, too, looked up and glared. James appeared too drunk to notice that he'd caught the eye of the king. When the words that were murmured mixed with what sounded like 'traitor' and 'betrayed' Much's ears perked up. He grew more incensed as the talk spread. Soon the whole room seemed alive with hatred, jealousy, and indignation. _Robin... Legrand... the Queen... traitors... _

Carter heard the ugly rumors, too, as bitter and shocked voices snaked through the room. He saw the heat rise in Much's face and waved his squire to his side. Holding his goblet up, his face flashed with concern. His gaze met Much's and he shook his head as Much poured the mead.

Much's eyes grew large, angry, until suddenly he could no longer stand it. He pounded the pitcher onto the table so hard that it tipped and crashed to the pavilion floor. "I cannot believe this!" he shouted. The words were nothing but lies and deceit, and he didn't care if half of the king's private guard knew how he felt. He didn't care that this was supposed to be a celebration of the king's birthday.

"Tame your squire," one of the knights grumbled.

"Much, this is not the place-- Quiet," Carter urged.

"I will not be quiet. I cannot stand here and listen to these lies about Lord Locksley!" He shot a pleading look toward Carter then back to the king. "Your Majesty, please. Robin has defended your name against the likes of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John, whom you and every good knight in this room know have been plotting to seize your throne! He has given up his lands and his titles, he lives in the forest like an outlaw and protects your crown. Robin saved your life and nearly died for you! He would never... _never_... harm the Queen Mother!"

"Much," Carter said quietly tugging at his tunic, "we will get to the bottom of th--"

Much would not be shushed. He pushed Carter's hand away and kept his focus on the king. "You sent Legrand to seek Robin's help because you trusted them. That trust was not misplaced, Your Majesty. You must not believe this message!"

"Much, please--"

"I cannot stay, My Lord." He bowed his head to King Richard and to the other nobles then hurried from the pavilion.

Carter stood up. "Your Majesty, if I may--"

Richard's face looked haggard, older. He'd merely meant to toast his mother's safe return to Aquitaine. He'd planned to tell Carter and Much of Robin's involvement later after the others left but Sir James, who'd had far too much wine, blabbed the shocking news out in front of his closest knights. Richard took a deep breath and said nothing--they were at war and reserving judgment 'til he'd heard his mother's side of the story might not be possible. He could only imagine her devastation if the news were true--Legrand and Robin traitors. Legrand dead. Two of his finest knights. He waved a hand at Carter.

"Much!" Carter called as he ran across the sand to catch up with his lover.

"Leave me alone!" Much cried as Carter's arm snaked across his shoulders.

"Much! I am on your side!" Carter exclaimed as Much pulled away from him. Carter grabbed him again and wrapped his squire in his arms, ignoring the stares from the men around them. Torchlight caught the glint in Much's eyes. Tears streamed down his face and he buried his head against Carter's shoulder. "It'll be all right," Carter whispered before he led him to their tent.

"Lies! All of it," Much shouted as Carter pulled the tent flap down behind them. "The sheriff put Prince John up to this. You know Robin--" Much paused realizing that Carter could count on one hand the number of days he'd known his former master. "And Legrand... he paid little mind to me when I was Robin's manservant but you knew him, didn't you?"

Carter ran his fingers along Much's jaw line and nodded. "Legrand was a good man, one of the bravest knights who served in the king's guard. He was a fierce competitor, one who bested me now and then in games though I'd heard Robin took him down many times." Carter noticed that elicited a small smirk from Much. "But he would never turn against the king. If he is dead, as Prince John's message said, it is because he defended the Queen Mother to his death."

"Surely the king knows that! Why would he believe the word of his brother?" Much paced, not an easy thing to do in the narrow space between their cots. "That blackguard wants his throne! He and the sheriff are in this together."

"You're right, Much. And the king will learn the truth. It's only a matter of time before a message arrives from Queen Eleanor. And we will send a message to Robin."

Much wanted to believe Carter. He ran a hand across his forehead. "Messengers can be waylaid," he said, remembering that Roger of Stoke never delivered Robin's message about the Black Knights to the king.

"Then when the king returns to England, the truth will be told," Carter proclaimed, pulling Much's hands into his. "He listened to every word you spoke. He won't take these accusations lightly. Now calm down."

Much took a deep breath and blew it out hard. "I shouldn't have yelled at the king."

Carter nodded. "True. It could be a hanging offence."

"What?!"

"Shh! There are no guards here to drag you away. I assume the king will find other ways to punish us."

"Us?" Much paled, his blue eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

Carter tried to keep a straight face. "You are my squire. It's obvious from your outburst that I've not trained you properly."

"What will he do?"

"Let's hope he doesn't tie us up," Carter teased, trying to make light of the subject.

"That is _not _funny," Much chided him.

Carter turned serious. "Would you promise me something?" he asked as he pulled Much into his arms.

"Anything," Much replied.

"Everyone in the camp will know of Prince John's message by morning's light. There will be gossip, and men who once called Robin 'friend' will speak of him as a traitor to the king. You must... _must _promise that you will hold your tongue. No matter what is said, promise me this."

Much agreed reluctantly and the two lovers curled close together on the mat that served as both bed and floor in their tent. Dawn would come far too soon, and with it another day of scouting the land and villages to the east toward Jerusalem, another day with Saracen raiders attacking their flanks. Carter watched Much drift toward sleep. He ran a finger softly across his forehead, grateful when he heard the soft snores and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Outside the tent a half dozen drunken knights stumbled toward their own respite. Rising carefully, Carter stood up, rubbed his eyes, and headed back to see the king.

~~~O~~~

Torchlights revealed a nearly deserted pavilion except for three knights who remained keeping the king's company. Sitting to either side of the Lionheart, they communed over wine and the remnants of the feast. James looked less intoxicated than he had when he'd made the damning revelation about Robin and Legrand. Not one word was slurred as he told the tale of a Genoese soldier who'd wandered away from camp the evening before to answer nature's call and ended up being chased back by Saracen raiders, his breeches down around his ankles. The knights and the king roared with delight but the men fell quiet when Richard waved Carter in.

Carter hurried to the king's side and fell to one knee. "Your Majesty-- I beg your forgiveness," he implored.

Richard leaned toward the younger man and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. It was by no means an unusual gesture but Carter felt the hair on his neck rise certain that James' eyes were boring into the back of his head. "Sit," the king said waving at James and the others to move away as he pointed Carter to the bench by his chair.

James tensed but withheld the typical glare he reserved when the handsome young knight had the king's attention. The other two men merely nodded politely and shuffled to the far end of the table.

"How is he?" the king asked, his forehead pressed to Carter's.

"The accusations are hurtful--"

"And will get worse as you well know," Richard replied.

Carter nodded, his fist clenched tightly in defiance. "Words... lies... hate... can kill, Your Majesty. Much is right about Robin. He's an honourable man."

Richard breathed in a sigh, released it. "Did you know Robin when you served here before?"

"I knew of him. We never met," Carter replied. "He'd left by the time I joined your private guard."

"Then how can you be certain that he would not turn against me? Alliances come and go like the seasons." Richard had endured politics long enough to know that anyone could be bought for a price. He leaned forward on the table again, his eyes fixed on Carter. He knew this knight's heart. "You... are in love with Robin's former manservant," he said, his voice low so the others would not hear. "That easily might taint your reasoning. You know my feelings for the two of you. I envy the passion you share, but you cannot let that drive you."

It was the first time the king had openly and honestly acknowledged Carter's relationship with Much. Infatuations were common in the camps, lonely men who just needed to feel alive when they were so far from home. Liaisons came and went--_like alliances,_ Carter thought--with the seasons. "Believe me, Sire, it does not," he said. He raised his voice to be certain the others heard. "My belief in Robin comes from seeing his actions in your name. You and your good knights always spoke so highly of him. Was he not called the best fighter, the best archer, the best swordsman? Most loyal. All seemed to agree how great he was."

Richard noticed that James and his other two knights were nodding. Truer words were never spoken yet he was certain he detected resentment. "Do I hear a hint of jealousy, Lord Carter?"

"Words colour our impressions too often. And any who have your favour must deal with others' perceptions, Sire," the younger man said, his gaze trailing toward James then back to the king.

"And would the perception of losing favoured status cause a man to betray me?"

Carter drew back in surprise. "_What?_ You mean Legrand, Your Majesty?"

"He felt he was being dismissed when I sent him to find Thesaurus Patriae." Richard could still picture the look on Legrand's face. He knew these men better than he knew his own brothers. He knew their competitive nature all too well. Had it turned to something more dark and ugly than he dared think? Did it outweigh their devotion to their king?

"I knew Legrand, Sire. It's true we vied to be the best in your eyes--"

Richard half-smiled and did not miss Carter's glance toward the far end of the table. "Oh I should have liked to have had you, Legrand, and Robin here together."

Carter lowered his eyes. Richard eyed his favourite knight curiously. "Lord Carter? Why do I have a feeling there is something you've not shared with me?"

"What a man chooses to hear weighs heavily on his mind and in his soul." Carter pursed his lips. "It's not something I'm proud of, Your Majesty."

"I see it pains you greatly," the king observed as he ran his hand gently along the knight's jaw line. He noticed James and the other knights looking intently at them. "Leave us," he ordered, his voice booming. His blue eyes softened and met Carter's.

Carter's breath rattled in his throat. "Whilst I remained here in your guard my only desire was to be better than Robin, to train myself..." His voiced trailed off and he pressed his fist against his lips then looked up at Richard hoping the king would not think less of him. "I despised Robin and lived for one purpose only. I dreamed of meeting him because the one thing that would have made my brother's death worthwhile would be to kill the man who left him to die in that village."

Carter buried his head in his hands. Richard tilted his chin up, his face a mask. "Go on," he said quietly.

"I had him at swordpoint. I could think of nothing else but to take his life as he'd taken Thomas'. I was ready to run him through, Sire," Carter admitted. It had been nearly a year since he'd cornered Robin in the barn in Clun. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Robin told me he held Thomas when he died. He repeated words that Thomas would not have said to anyone but family. He must have loved Robin like a brother. I finally realized that the stories I'd heard here were tainted by my own hatred and jealousy and I knew that Robin felt the pain of Thomas' death as I had."

Richard dabbed at a tear that escaped Carter's eye and then brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. "Go back to your lover, Carter. Cradle him in your arms. Hold him tightly. Go."

"We have ruined your birthday."

The king waved him away with a gentle smile. "He needs you more than I do."

Carter hurried back to his tent and crawled beneath the blanket next to Much.

Much stirred. "You were with him?" he asked quietly.

"I went to apologize for your outburst and for deserting him on his birthday. He is very understanding. He told me to come back to you."

Much tugged Carter's arm over his chest. "The king is a very smart man," he said twining his fingers through Carter's hand.

Carter spooned his body around his squire's. The two lovers held each other tightly against the ugly tide of treasonous talk that would wash across the desert sands by daybreak.

~~~O~~~

_Robin was calm as always, never perturbed when words dribbled from Vaizey's mouth. He studied the faces of those gathered in the courtyard, his mouth curling into a tight smile when he saw his friends. Gisborne smirked, his dark eyes torn between watching the Lady Marian and Hood. Soldiers stood guard warily. It never failed that something was bound to go wrong whenever Hood was involved. But on this day Robin could not stop fate. He shot Much one final look. It's not your fault, he mouthed. His body dropped, legs dangling beneath him. He did not kick, did not fight the noose, but the momentum of the plunge made him swing from the hangman's rope. After a few moments his corpse stilled.__  
__  
__Suddenly the gang encircled Much trapping him like a wild animal. They glared and spit at him, jabbing sharp fingers into his chest.__  
__  
__"Why didn't you save him, Much?" Will asked.__  
__  
__"He believed in you, Much," Djaq said.__  
__  
__John nodded. "You let him down."__  
__  
__"He trusted you! You cleared your own name, Lord Much," Marian cried. "You were supposed to save Robin, too!"__  
__  
__"I tried, Marian. The king--"__  
__  
__"_You _are the traitor. _You _killed him!" Marian exclaimed as she slapped Much hard across the face.__  
__  
_Much bolted upright, his heart pounding. Drenched in a cold sweat, he gasped for breaths. His sudden movement woke Carter.

"What is it?" the knight said, sitting up quickly, his hand reaching for his sword. "Are we under attack?"

"No. Sorry," he said, his voice shaky. "Go back to sleep."

Carter's hand slipped from the hilt of his weapon. He rubbed his eyes and peered at his lover through the darkness. "You're upset."

"Better one than both of us. It was just a bad dream."

"Don't want to talk about it?"

"No." Much paused then spoke again. "Well, yes. But no."

"Much!"

"Robin... I saw them hang Robin." Trembling, Much ran his hand through his hair grabbing the locks, twisting them painfully as if to punish himself. He pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. "The gang was blaming me, saying I'd not done enough to clear his name. It's all my fault. We should be back in Sherwood by now."

Carter sighed. Five weeks had passed since the king's birthday, weeks spent waiting and wondering why the only word from England had been from Prince John and not from Queen Eleanor. He'd watched Much toss and turn in fitful sleep so many nights. Watched the pain on his face when the gossip and suspicious looks forced him to keep his earlier promise to Carter.

"I've failed him, Carter," Much said, "failed all of them. Don't allegiance, loyalty or trust mean anything during wartime? Can't they see that Robin is a good man?"

Carter pulled Much into his arms and comforted him despite a growing feeling that Much's heart might still belong to Robin. _Robin this, Robin __that.._. A year since they'd left Sherwood and Robin was never far from his squire's thoughts. _Stop this!_ he told himself. He tipped Much's face toward his, ran his hand through his soft blond curls, and kissed him on the forehead. The drums and chants from the nearby Saracen stronghold had stopped, a momentary lull that on any other night would have made the quiet of the night its own glorious song against the stars and the moon outside the tent.

They lay wrapped around each other but Much squirmed and then looked up sharply. "What day is it?"

"I don't know. Thursday? What does it matter?"

"No, what is the date?" Much said insistently.

Carter thought for a moment, wondering why his lover was so upset. "The fourteenth of October, I think."

Much nodded, calmer now, and nestled his cheek against Carter's warm chest. The knight played his finger lightly along Much's face and smiled down into his beautiful, soft melancholy eyes. "Well?"

"It's Robin's birthday. Do you suppose the gang remembers? If I were there..." His thoughts drifted off when Carter sighed and his fingers trailed away from his face. It was almost as if he'd heard Carter thoughts.

"What would you do?" Carter asked with genuine interest surprising himself. They needed something less gloomy to talk about after weeks of hearing Robin's name cursed from one end of the camp to the other.

"I would surprise him with a roasted pig! A big, fat, juicy roasted pig!" Much took a deep breath as if he could smell the animal cooking over an open fire. "Everyone would be there. You, Djaq and Will, Little John. Maybe we'd invite the villagers--"

Carter smiled. "What about Marian?"

"Well, yes," he said with slight hesitation, "of course she'd--"

"Much, you are still jealous!"

"I am not!" He sat up and pouted.

Carter drew up on his elbows forgetting his own jealous moment and threw his lover a cheeky grin.

"Why would I feel jealous? I have you," Much reasoned. "Y'know it's funny - everyone splitting into couples. Djaq would say that she and Will were going to get honey. But why did it need two of them, hm? Honey is one of those things."

"Honey?" Carter frowned.

"It's a-- what do you call it when you use a sweet innocent word but what you really mean is something else?"

"A euphemism?"

"A euphemism. Exactly."

"Honey?" Carter laughed.

"Yeah. There must be plenty of honey going on back in Sherwood."

"Ah, so Will and Djaq--"

Much nodded. "--and Robin and Marian nipping off into the forest for long walks."

"So you got paired with Little John?"

"Robin said once we made an odd couple and I joked that if that's the way the pairings were going to go, I didn't fancy mine much. I don't think John took it personally. He was good company but... " Much grew quiet for a moment suddenly remembering the looks that passed between himself and John. They knew that something was missing in their lives. John had Alice once. He still yearned for her soft touch. You could hear it in his voice whenever he mentioned her name, see it on his face when they passed her old house in Locksley. And Much had... had... no one... at least not then. Not until Carter came into his life. He reached for Carter's hand and tugged it into his own, running his fingers back and forth across his palm.

"What is it?" Carter asked.

"Just thinking that John is all alone now. I'm glad I'm not anymore."

Carter squeezed Much's hand. "Mm... " Carter said licking his lips, all thoughts of Robin suddenly gone from his mind, "all this talk of honey is making me hungry."

"Well I don't think the mess tent is open at this time of night," Much replied with blue eyes so childlike that Carter had to smile. "I'm sure the cooks would not--"

Carter cuffed his lover's neck, his own eyes twinkling mischievously as he brushed his lips against Much's.

"Oh," Much sighed. "You mean honey," he said as Carter's mouth covered his with a bruising kiss and gently pushed him on to his back. The sounds of their short, rasping breaths, quiet moans, and whispered words of love were like a lullaby in the pre-dawn stillness.


	35. Many Happy Returns

**Summary**: Robin remembers past birthdays on that fateful day in October. Takes place immediately prior to the events of 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Robin, Robin/Marian, Young!Robin/Young!Much  
**Mentions**: Carter, Thornton, Lord Malcolm  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre: **General

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Many Happy Returns**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

_"It's just a birthday, Master. It's all right if you didn't remember it. You've been busy," Much said as he started the cooking fires.__  
__  
__"But it's your birthday. I wanted to get you something special." Robin lingered behind his friend with the usual upturned eyebrows of forgiveness.__  
__  
__"If it's all the same to you, I would rather just forget it." Much blinked back tears. It hurt him that Robin forgot his birthday again but he would never tell him.__  
__  
__"I will make up for it, my friend," Robin hugged his former manservant from behind. He already felt guilty for taking away Much's new found freedom and title to drag him deep into the forest he loathed and now he couldn't even remember the birthday of the man who had tended to him for so many years.__  
__  
__Later, by the campfire, he dropped the crudely wrapped parcel at the blond cook's feet. Much looked up to see his master smiling at him. "Many happy returns, Much."__  
__  
__"Master, you didn't have to..."__  
__  
__"I didn't." The outlaw leader shrugged, "I wanted to." He sat down beside his friend as he unwrapped the package. "It isn't much. I'm afraid I didn't..."__  
__  
__"Your father's waistcoat!" Much reverently exclaimed. He noticed his master had stopped wearing it but didn't question why.__  
__  
__"I had one of the laundresses at Locksley wash and mend it for you."__  
__  
__"Robin I can't..." Much stifled.__  
__  
__"You've always admired it," Robin reasoned. "I got tired of wearing it. It's yours." He watched happily as his former manservant put on his late father's vest and ran his hands down the slightly worn tapestry. __  
__  
__"How do I look?" Much asked excitedly.__  
__  
__"Better than I ever did in it," Robin exclaimed. He wasn't stretching the truth. The garment lay better on his friend's slightly stockier frame than it ever could on his wiry one. The print matched Much's light colouring. Robin smiled at the joy his simple act caused. "Wear it well my friend." The last time he saw the former servant, Much was still wearing it. The vest had become a second skin to him and the most prized of his meagre possessions._

Robin sighed at the memory. He wondered if Carter remembered his former servant's birthday. His mind drifted again, this time to Marian, before war and his king took him away from her.

~~~O~~~

_"A bow? But I have a bow...A good bow." Robin drew the longbow from over his shoulder.__  
__  
__"But this one is different," Marian reasoned. "Its a recurved bow, like the Saracens use." She studied the sceptical look on her suitor's face. "I had Luke make it for you."__  
__  
__Robin tested the string of the strange weapon, frowning at the way it didn't fit his well calloused thumb.__  
__  
__"You don't like it." Marian pulled away, the trembling in her voice betrayed the tears that were coming.__  
__  
__"No, I like it," Robin smiled reassuring the young maiden.__  
__  
__"It's like the one your father had... remember?"__  
__  
__Robin grinned at his boyish misdeeds. "I remember you got so mad at me for playing target practice with Much, you broke it."__  
__  
__"You almost put his eye out trying to shoot an apple off his head! I still can't believe he let you talk him into doing that!" Marian's cheeks glowed at the remembered anger but her voice softened. "I shouldn't have broken it, it was your father's and..."__  
__  
__"Now you replaced it," Robin smiled as his lips brushed the maiden's. "Thank you."__  
__  
__"Just promise me you won't point it at Much again," Marian warned.__  
__  
__"Only if he tries to sing," Robin teased._

~~~O~~~

His finger ran down the bowstring at the memory. It had become his favourite possession, seeing him through war and now his time as an outlaw. He had other bows, better bows, but none fit his hand as this one did. Its sinuous string had become over time as familiar as the touch of the woman who gave it to him.

Another birthday came to mind, not a particularly pleasant one but one to remember. Again his thoughts wandered to Much and the first day they met.

_It was his first birthday without father. Robin curled up in a ball in the large bed and wished the world would forget. He tried to sleep the day away but suddenly the room brightened noisily.__  
__  
__"There, that's better!"__  
__  
__"I'm trying to sleep if you don't mind!" Robin threw back the covers and paused at the sight of the servant before him.__  
__  
__"Nonsense, Master. Its mid-day and time for your lessons!"__  
__  
__The young man was hardly more than a couple of years older than Robin himself. Dirty blond hair was untidily tucked under a silly cap and the young peasant's impossibly pale, blue eyes examined him intently. Scrawny, gangly knees trembled slightly and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. He could tell the young servant was scared, but not of him. Robin was sure Thornton was behind the servant's barely hidden panic if young master was not at his studies soon.__  
__  
__"And you are?" Robin shot with a haughty tone.__  
__  
__"Much."__  
__  
__"You don't seem like much," Robin snorted.__  
__  
__"That's my name. I am Much and I am your new... your new manservant."__  
__  
__"I don't need a manservant!" Robin pouted. "Go away!" He threw the blankets over his head.__  
__  
__Much frowned at his new master's cheekiness. Knowing it would probably buy him a good thrashing, he picked up the washbasin and emptied its contents on the young lord.__  
__  
__"What!!!" Robin sputtered, his green eyes flashing. "I'll have you hanged for this! I'll have you thrown out of Locksley! I'll have you...." He broke into sobs.__  
__  
__"No, no I'm sorry!" Much climbed into bed next to the soaked and crying young lord. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Please don't send me away, Master. I'll be out on the streets of Nottingham again." He shivered as he looked out the window at the crisp October day. "It's so cold out there."__  
__  
__The look of genuine terror caused the young lord to back down. "I'm not mad at you." Robin rubbed his eyes. "I miss my father. He would always come up and wish me a happy birthday."__  
__  
__"Today's your birthday?"__  
__  
__Robin nodded. "No one remembered it."__  
__  
__"No one remembers my birthday either," Much sighed. "I have almost forgotten it myself."__  
__  
__"Don't you have a father and mother?"__  
__  
__The young servant shook his head sadly. "They died years ago."__  
__  
__"Do you miss them?" Robin blinked back tears.__  
__  
__"Sometimes," Much whispered. "Especially around birthdays."__  
__  
__"I miss father, especially today." Robin welcomed the arm around his shoulder as the new, blond servant hugged him.__  
__  
__"We can remember each other's birthdays from now on, Master," Robin's new servant reasoned with a funny nod that made the sodden lord giggle.__  
__  
__"That is assuming you have any more if you dump water on me again!" Robin playfully threatened.__  
__  
__"Then best get up when I wake you. Wouldn't want my death on your hands," Much grinned. "Come on! I'm hungry and your breakfast is getting cold."_

~~~O~~~

The noise from the centre of camp stirred him from his memories. Legrand gathered the others in the clearing then turned to him.

"Trouble...in Nettlestone! We must go there...quickly!"

"What kind of trouble, Legrand?"

"Best to go see for yourself, _mon ami_."

The gang took off. Robin glanced around once more at the camp he wouldn't see again for over a year though he didn't know it yet. "So much for happy returns."

* * *

**A/N**: And so we head into the events of 2x12... If you've read this far we'd love to know what you're enjoying about the story (and also what you're not).

How will the scenes in the Barn play out without Much there but with Legrand? What truths might Much and Carter share if they find themselves in a similar situation? Will Allan still choose to come back and help his former friends? Stay tuned...


	36. Kalilah: No Secrets

**Summary**: The gang find themselves trapped in a barn in Nettlestone and Djaq suggests a way to pass the time before their heroic last stand. She volunteers to go first but will her revelation come as a surprise to anybody? Takes place during 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq, Robin, Little John, Legrand  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **General

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Kalilah: No Secrets**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"Are we goin' to kill them?"

"Yes!"

"Are we goin' to like it?"

"Yes!"

"Are we goin' to kill them?"

"Yes!"

"That is starting to _really _get on my nerves," Will quietly said, voicing what they were all thinking.

"What kind of soldiers are these? They're not doing anything." Djaq looked incredulously at the men milling around outside the barn.

"Mercenaries. They fight for money, not a cause," Legrand spat.

"That is why they do not want to fight and die," John added.

"So they are happy to just sit and wait?" Djaq asked.

"Yes, because every hour that goes by, we become more fearful, more tired, more likely to take foolish action," Robin explained.

"Foolish action was bringing us here in the first place," muttered Will.

"I've said I'm sorry! I wanted some way to say 'thank you' to you all and preparing a feast for Robin's birthday seemed like the perfect opportunity! You told me yourself you trusted the villagers!" Legrand pleaded.

Robin sighed. "I know, Legrand. And we did - you weren't to know."

John scowled, suddenly wondering if Robin would have been so understanding had another of them made the same mistake. Typical of nobles to stick together like that. "This is _not _helping me trust you," he said as he poked his finger into Legrand's chest with a low growl.

"How many times can I say it?" the Frenchman protested.

"Let it go, John. This is exactly what they want us to do. Fight amongst ourselves and save them the trouble. Don't give them the satisfaction!" Robin could tell everybody's tempers were close to breaking point.

John barged against Legrand's shoulder as he passed him and sat down on the far side of the fire.

"Well they're not coming tonight," Robin decided. "So I have a proposal - if they don't come to us, we go to them, first light. If we have to die at least we'll die fighting. Are you with me?"

There was a pause then they all quietly muttered their agreement.

"Then tonight is a Kalilah and Dimnah night," Djaq suddenly announced. They all looked at her blankly. "You don't have Kalilah and Dimnah?"

"We might, just not by that name," Robin replied. "What are they?"

"Kalilah and Dimnah you remember all your life. You must speak only the truth. You must ask all your questions. Share all your dreams. Confess all your secrets. And if you're too boring, someone shouts 'Kalilah!' and you lose your turn."

"It's just talking?" asked Robin. "No, we don't do that - we're Englishmen." Legrand pointedly cleared his throat. "And French," Robin added.

Djaq sighed. "It's not just talking, it's _real_ talking. Come, sit down and I will start." She looked at them all gathered around her, knowing for the moment the fear of talking would drive even the fear of dying from their minds.

"You are all good men. Brave, generous, kind, decent men and I love you. All of you. And I am proud to be amongst you." Robin rolled his eyes to the roof and smiled while John stared at the floor. Legrand and Will both kept their eyes on Djaq. She took a deep breath. "And you're filthy." Suddenly all eyes were on her. "And you _really _stink and you have no souls."

"We live in the forest..." John started.

"I have to be honest!" she laughed, then said more quietly, "I have to be honest. And if I _am _being honest...I have to say...that I do not love all of you in the same way." Robin kept his eyes fixed on Djaq but John's attention suddenly shifted to Will as, John noticed, did Legrand's.

"There is one...I do love more than the others." Will's smile could have lit the whole barn. "You, Will Scarlett, are strong and true...and you fight for what you believe in...and that's why I love you."

"And I love you...and I don't care who knows it any more." He rushed over and knelt in front of her. "I want to stand on top of Nottingham Castle and shout it to the world." He kissed her tenderly and they turned to face the others. Robin looked at them both as if seeing them for the first time but John and Legrand both seemed completely unsurprised.

"John - you knew?" Djaq laughed.

"I'm not blind, Djaq!" John said, with more bitterness than he meant.

Robin looked at them all in amazement. "And no-one thought to tell me?"

"I didn't know it was a secret," Legrand shrugged.

"I really need to pay more attention to you lot," muttered Robin. He wandered over to the table and got some more food...


	37. Kalilah: No Regrets

**Summary**: Djaq asks John to share his thoughts with the Gang but when opening up causes him to lose control, who's going to make him see sense? Takes place during 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Little John, Legrand, Djaq, Will, Robin  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre: **General, Tiny Hint of Slash

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kalilah: No Regrets**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------  
John stared into the fire. He'd faced death many times but usually as an immediate problem where the adrenalin of fighting gave no time to think about consequences. Sitting and waiting for it to come to you was an entirely different prospect. He hadn't had to do that since that night in the Castle cells and even then he'd had the hope that his friends would get them out. Now he sat surrounded by those same friends and there was no-one coming except the painted mercenaries outside.

"John?" Djaq prompted him.

He snapped out of his thoughts as they all looked at him expectantly. "No," he refused and stared back at the fire.

"John? Who do you love?" Djaq asked.

He looked up at her, surprised by the bluntness of the question.

"You," he said to her as he looked around. "All of you, even him," he added, as he gestured at Legrand standing behind him. Legrand looked up sharply but then realised John's words were merely meant as something to say to Djaq for the sake of talking.

"Alright?" John stood up and crossed to the cart blocking the door. Then he stopped as he actually considered the question and his shoulders sagged.

"And Alice," he said, sadly as he turned to face them all again. "Shouldn't have let her go... and my boy, Little Little John... I should have... made them stay. And now I'll never see them again."

"You have a son?" Legrand looked at him with surprise. "I didn't know that!"

"I didn't know it myself," said John, bitterly. "I left Alice and ran to the forest. Left the two people who loved me and should have depended on me! My own child!" His voice rose in anger.

Djaq, Will and Robin looked at each other. John had barely mentioned Alice or his son since they had left and they had just assumed that he had dealt with it and moved on, though Djaq remembered his pain when Rosa had decided to name her baby after John's departed wife. "John, you didn't have a choice..." Robin started.

"Of course I had a choice! I left them and then, when I should have got them back, I let them go again! What was I thinking?! I'm a huge, ugly, stupid, useless coward! She was right - I should have stayed dead..." he paused and looked over at the barn door. "And any day is a good day to die if you're already dead. I don't need to wait till tomorrow." He stripped off his jacket and threw it across the barn. "Let's move this cart and you can all be rid of me. You don't need me any more, anyway. No one does."

Will ran over and hugged John's head as he threw himself against the cart. "John! John, no!"

"I _need _to die! I _want _to die! Let me die! Let me _die_!" John sobbed into Will's chest as the young carpenter looked over at Robin, helplessly confused. None of them had ever seen so much as a chink in John's personal armour and now this...

Legrand quickly stood up and crossed the barn to where Will and John stood against the cart. He gently but firmly pushed Will to one side and then hauled back and landed an almighty punch across John's jaw. John landed heavily on the floor but swiftly rolled over and sprung to his feet before launching himself at Legrand with a roar that made the barn walls shake. He swung his left arm wildly and Legrand ducked underneath and punched him in the ribs as he passed. John's elbow cracked back against Legrand's head and he followed it up with a right-handed punch to Legrand's back. Legrand spun as he staggered away and as John followed up Legrand raised his leg, planted his foot in John's chest and kicked him backwards.

The fight carried both men forward and back across the barn, crashing into supporting timbers, fine clouds of dust raining down with each successive blow. Djaq and Will scrambled to get out of their way as both men rolled past them, still furiously trading punches.

"Robin! Stop them!" Djaq was convinced the whole barn was about to come down round their ears.

Robin shook his head. "No, I think John needs this." He'd been aware of the tension between John and Legrand for some time though he was unsure as to the cause. They had seemed to be getting along fine but as Legrand had recovered from his wounds he had taken up more and more of John's duties - maybe his friend somehow felt his position threatened by the younger Frenchman.

John and Legrand were both breathing heavily now and coughing in the dust but neither showed any signs of slowing. They both had cut lips and Legrand was bleeding from a cut above his eye.

Robin was suddenly reminded of the day he'd fought Gisborne like this - both men driven by passion, not reason, fighting till they could barely stand - but that fight seemed like one between children compared to the struggle between giants taking place here.

As John swung another wild punch at Legrand's head the knight dodged to one side and, grabbing John's hair, slammed his head against a beam. John elbowed him in the stomach, making him release his grip, then turned and punched him across the face again. Legrand spun round and dropped to his knees facing away from John but as John made to grab him round the neck, he suddenly seized John's arm and the back of his shirt and flipped him forwards over his head. The impact as John landed flat on his back on the floor shook the entire building.

Legrand swiftly swung himself round and straddled John, grabbing his arms and pinning them above his head to the floor, then before John could try to shake him off, leaned over and kissed him, hard and forcefully, on the mouth.

He raised his head again. John's mouth remained open in surprise, his lips smeared with both his own blood and Legrand's. Robin, Will and Djaq stood in stunned silence.

Legrand's blue eyes were blazing. "Yes, you left her! And yes, she was depending on you - but she still does! Both she and your boy are safe now because of what you have done for them, as are countless others!"

John attempted to lift his arms but Legrand slammed them back to the floor. He leaned in close so his nose was almost touching John's. "You are not stupid or useless or a coward! You are strong and brave and your wisdom is respected by all here."

John turned his head to the side and his eyes met Robin's.

"He's right. The day you die will not be a good one for any of us, my friend," said Robin.

"We do need you, John," said Will. Djaq nodded as John looked at them both.

Legrand released John's wrists and placing his hand on John's chin, turned his head back to face him. He wiped the blood from John's lips with his thumb and held it up so John could see it.

"I am proud to share the blood of such a man and I'm sure your son is too," he said, much more softly. He kissed John again, gently this time, running his fingers through John's hair and pushing it back from his face.

"And you're also far from ugly... _J'aime tes yeux_." He kissed John once on the forehead, then quickly stood up and took his seat again by the fire. Djaq joined him to look at the cut above his eye.

John continued to lie on his back for a few minutes, his mouth slightly open, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, then he slowly sat up and got to his feet, still not meeting their eyes and obviously deep in thought. Robin and Will held their breath, not sure how he was going to react. As if coming to a decision, John turned and slowly walked back over to the fire to stand in front of Legrand.

Legrand looked up as Djaq paused in cleaning his eye. John's brown eyes, the eyes he loved, stared back at him. He slowly stood up so they were again face to face, unsure if John was about to hug him or punch him. John answered the unspoken question by suddenly wrapping his arms around Legrand and pulling him into a fierce embrace. Legrand flinched slightly then laughed and returned the hug, clapping John on the back.

John looked into the younger man's eyes and then rested his forehead against Legrand's. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"_Pas du tout_. 'We all have our moments of weakness'," Legrand grinned and playfully pushed John's head away as he sat down again.

Djaq threw her arms round John's waist and hugged him tightly. He smiled, a sad smile but a smile none the less, and patted her on the head. They both knew she hated that. She poked him in the stomach then turned back to looking at Legrand's eye. Will came over and sat down beside them both, patting John's arm but saying nothing as he passed him.

John walked over to Robin who stood back with his arms crossed. "Robin, I'm sorry for..."

"It's all right, John. We all know what you've given up. You shouldn't let regret eat away at you like that though."

John put his hand on Robin's shoulder. "I could say the same."

Robin shrugged off the older man's hand. "No, I don't have any regrets."

John regarded Robin carefully for a moment then decided not to push it - for now, anyway. He went back to the fire and sat down...


	38. Kalilah: No Past

**Summary**: Carter reveals his darkest secret to Much while they are trapped in the Holy Land. Takes place during 2x12, "A Good Day to Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, Thomas, Young!Carter/OC (OC's): Lord William, Lady Margaret, Charleton  
**Mentions**: Robin, King Richard, (OC's) Lord Wilton, Joanna, Matthew  
**Rating**: R (For mentions of rape. F/M)  
**Genre: **Slash, Angst, Rape

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Kalilah: No Past**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Carter turned in his sleep. How long had they been holed up in this dark room Much had forgotten. As many times as he found himself in his lover's arms being comforted out of another night terror he had never known the knight to stir in his sleep. This night was different. Carter tossed fitfully in his dream. Perspiration popped out on his fevered brow. Much would have woken him in a second but he knew Carter needed the rest. It was his turn at watch and he could only sit and allow his lover to dream.

_Wilton Manor was not the place of happy memories. Finding himself back in the darkened room was terrifying enough but in the arms of his tormentor it was unbearable. The stifling smell of Lady Margaret's perfume overwhelmed him. The effects of the strong wine made him weak. She was on him, consuming him like some awful creature of the night._

_"They are yours, you know, both of them." Margaret laughed, "Do you think that worthless, limp brother of yours could provide me the heirs I needed?"__  
__  
__The seventeen year old boy struggled under the lady's weight. He felt crushed by her very presence and tried to turn away. Carter was disgusted at the sight of her and what she made him do. He thought of anything to remove him from this place as she forced herself on him...taking him. He thought of Charleton and his warm inviting arms and lips of forbidden love. As fast as it started, it was over and she staggered out of the room in moments. He could breath again. Before he could make himself decent, Margaret staggered back into the room. Instead of laughing she was crying and William followed in anger. He woke as his eldest brother's fist creased his cheek.__  
_  
"Carter!" He blinked as Much's concerned face filled his vision. "Quiet! You will wake our enemy," Much spat in jest. He looked over at his lover. "Who is Margaret anyway?" Much snorted as he squinted out of a crack in the wall. "Some 'friend' of yours in a brothel I take it?"

The knight shook his head. "She was no friend of mine." He wanted to tell his lover but the words wouldn't come. Much had his daemons but they were surely nothing as dark as those Carter hid from even himself.

"It's her, isn't it?" Much gazed intently.

"Who would that be, Much?" Carter condescended.

"That woman, the one you never speak of. The one you dream about and cry out her name." He pouted in a way that at any other time Carter would've found himself smothering with a kiss. "You loved her. Do you still?"

Now the knight felt as if he were the one being smothered. "In case you didn't notice we are trapped by the Saracens and will probably die here! We don't have time for your games and petty jealousy, Much!" The words came out with more force than he intended causing the other man to jump involuntarily at them. "I'm sorry." He walked over to the other side of the room and propped his arm on an ancient post, covering his eyes as he leaned his head on his arm. If he could not sleep at least he could attempt to shut out the reality around him. Instead the bitter past came to reclaim his waking thoughts.

_"Scandal or war. Your choice."__  
__  
__"I'm sorry?" Carter blinked not comprehending his eldest brother's words.__  
__  
__"Thomas has thus far failed to carry the Wilton name to glory and now you threaten to bury it." His mother glared as William spoke. "How dare you! I forgave you your little...'incident' with Charleton in the stables but this...this I cannot forgive." William paled as he covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed. The wet, guttural sound filled the small room. He folded the blood-stained fabric. "And with my own wife." His lip curled. "Have you no shame?"_

_"But I..."_

_William's thoughts turned inward. He always suspected the children he sired favoured his half brother more than incidentally. He always suspected but turned a blind eye at his wife's unhealthy obsession with Carter. Now the cold facts were too much for his mind to bear. "Enough! You will follow your brother." William looked away in disgust. "I want you out of this house and away from my wife! I only hope God will look after you and help you to see the error of your ways before you bring eternal damnation to your soul."_

~~~O~~~

"Carter!"

The world came crashing back with Much's hand on his shoulder. The drumming outside had started again but that was not what made the cold sweat drip down his back and his fists clench.

"They will come back for us. I know they will," Much reasoned. "We will not die here."

"Much, the regiment thinks we are dead, or soon will be. We have nothing but each other and the water in our canteens." He looked into his lover's eyes. "And our daggers."

"Carter, I hardly think we can fend off the Turk with just our small...Oh."

"I have seen men die of thirst, Much. It is not the way I want to go, certainly not the way I want to watch you go. Nor will I see our enemies kill you." Carter smiled as he grabbed his lover and held him. "By our own hands or not at all."

"Alright, but if we must die I would rather die with a clear conscience." Much levelled his eyes. "I have known you over a year now and yet I know nothing about you save what you mentioned about Thomas. If I have to die I want to do it sharing the secrets that torture my lover's nightmares."

Carter started bluntly, "I have no past..."

"This is my dying wish and you must honour it!"

"And I get in return..."

"You get mine," Much nodded forlornly.

"But I know everything about you, Much. You told me everything our first week together."

"Not everything. You aren't the only one with dark secrets."

~~~O~~~

_"Carter, come here!" The dull ache in the young man's stomach was nothing new as he went to the foyer to face his mother. Wilton Manor was not the usual darkened sombre tomb of late. Father was always ill after the stroke and Carter's mother liked her privacy. The usual lightness of the home had been immediately transformed by the patriarch's poor health. Today however, windows had been opened and the stale rooms aired out to receive the __newly-weds. Still __ the house had an atmosphere of foreboding like a freshly opened grave and he peered around the corners at what horror the opened earth had coughed up.__  
__  
__"Carter," his mother sniffed from behind her kerchief. "Come, greet your new sister-in-law. Where are your manners?"__  
__  
__The lord of the manor's new bride did not possess the classic beauty of the local maidens. William had met Margaret in his travels to London and had married her there against his Mother's wishes. The younger woman was aged beyond her years. She looked down at the awkward blond boy and her cold eyes raked over his thin frame making the __already freezing __temperature in the room go sub-zero. He shook slightly as she fingered his chin. "Such a strapping young man." She then turned in the same breath. "Servant! That is not a side of beef! Careful!"__  
__  
__Charleton squeaked as he fumbled the over-sized bag, "Sorry, Milady." He cast his eyes from his master's new wife to his younger master. An almost half grin crossed his face. He quickly snapped back at William's stern voice. "Charleton, our room is upstairs. Take Lady Margaret's things up there then tend the horses."__  
__  
__"Yes, my lord." The young, dark blond servant turned once more to the younger, lighter blond lord and smiled full on, bowed respectfully, then went upstairs._

~~~O~~~

"I do not like this...Charleton already!" Much spat as he looked out between the slats of wood covering the windows.

"You remind me a lot of him." Carter mused, "He was a sweet simple soul, wise beyond any books, we became fast friends."

Much spun around, changing the subject. "So Margaret, your sister-in-law..."

"Half sister-in-law," Carter corrected.

Much nodded, "You became intimate with her?"

"Not by choice. It was anything but intimate."

~~~O~~~

_He could not move. He wanted to cry, to scream, but the words were stuck. He could only sit there while this woman touched him, defiled his body. He first wanted to get away, then he wanted to die. He cried as the woman brought him grudgingly to climax inside her. "Not a word," she huskily whispered in his ear. "Not that anyone would believe you."__  
__  
__He ran, barely dressed, the hot tears spilling down his cheeks as he hid in the livery stables. She wouldn't find him there on this cold day and the horses brays hid his sobs.__  
__  
__"Nice night for it." The voice reached his ears as he quickly wiped at his face. The figure came over with a tattered blanket and slipped it around him. Charleton smelled of hay and sweat.__  
__  
__"I'm not crying," the young lord stammered. "I'm just..."__  
__  
__"Laughing on the wrong side of your face, as Master Thomas would say?" The servant grinned with a funny nod. "No one here but the horses to say otherwise."__  
__  
__"And you." Carter studied his friend's eyes.__  
__  
__"I won't tell. If you are going to 'laugh' you need a shoulder to do it on properly."_

~~~O~~~

"Having permission made the tears of humiliation come easy as he held me," Carter lamented. "He held me all night till dawn came and he had to tend to chores." Carter looked up, his face crossed with remembered pain. "It wouldn't be the last time, then it became more than just comfort."

"You became more than friends?"

"Yes," Carter stammered. "He was the only one who shared my pain. I would have gone mad without him. No one else believed me. Then Thomas came home."

~~~O~~~

_The lazy summer day was cut with the smell of lavender in the air. Carter and Charleton lazed around with their shirts off. Charleton was grateful for the company but shrugged off his master as he tried to help him with the heavy chores. "My job."__  
__  
__"Many hands make light work," the sixteen year old lord mused, his fair skin turning darker in the sun.__  
__  
__"And if my lord gets caught helping me it will be a whipping for us both."__  
__  
__"I like helping you." Carter focused on his lover. '"Fine! What do you want me to do?" His eyes ran over every inch of his well muscled servant.__  
__  
__"Watch," Charleton grinned. Both men turned to the dust trail on the horizon. "Company?" the servant said as he slipped on his tunic.__  
__  
__Carter nodded, then a glint of the family crest caught his eye. "Thomas!" He excitedly ran to meet the horseman.__  
__  
__"You get taller everyday, little brother," the older boy mused. "Charleton." __  
__  
__"Lord Wilton," the servant bowed.__  
__  
__"No one is around," the squire grinned as he got off his horse. He cuffed the two younger men around the neck and pulled them close. "That's Thomas to you." He briefly kissed them both on the forehead. "How are the ogres?"__  
__  
__"They haven't eaten anyone yet...that we know of," Charleton mused.__  
__  
__"Are you staying long?" Carter asked hopefully.__  
__  
__"Aye, till our new King sends word for my return to Aquitaine," Thomas replied._

~~~O~~~

Things were good that summer. Margaret left me alone. She was with her second child and not well. I cried when Matthew was born." He looked up in despondence. "She bragged to me about Joanna being mine in one of her drunken encounters. With Matthew I wasn't sure. He didn't have my eyes, Much. I was hoping..."

"You fathered your brother's children." Much was beyond shock.

"I had no choice!" Carter put his head in his hands.

"Surely Thomas..."

The knight shook his head. "Something happened. I don't want to think about it." He held out his hand. "Please, these last hours, just hold me."

"All your secrets are mine." Much held his lover as the tears fell and a lifetime of tragedy flooded back. "Let me share your burdens. The past is the past, it can't hurt us now."

~~~O~~~

_The evening of his nightmares flooded back, the night he lost Thomas and Charleton forever. Rough hands clawed at him and for once he didn't give in. Having Thomas close gave him strength and the will to fight back. He thought it was over when he ran to safety and his lover's warm comforting arms. She followed him, waited in the shadows, then found their hiding place. She was as surprised as the two young men were. Margaret screamed, alerting everyone else on the estate. They were drawn, half-naked and ashamed, in front of the eldest Lord.__  
__  
__Shouting...Thomas' higher voice at times drowning out the gravelled voice of the eldest Wilton. Words were spoken that ushered the matriarch out of the room in tears. "This would never have happened if you controlled that...that...harlot of a wife of yours!"__  
__  
__"Stand down!" William roared. "I will see you hang for such talk about my wife! She is a god-fearing woman." He coughed into his handkerchief then sneered at the two semi-dressed young men. "Committing blasphemy, sodomy, I will have you both burned at the stake!"__  
__  
__"Then toss her on the fire as well," Thomas reasoned. "She has done nothing less than try to bed me since I came home. Adultery is just as bad as sodomy in God's eyes."__  
__  
__Carter flinched as his eldest brother slapped the other one. "You utter blasphemy with your tongue!" He drew his dagger and pointed it at Thomas' throat. "You will leave this house! Take your accusations against Lady Wilton and that devil spawn with you!"__  
__  
__Thomas glared at his older half-brother. "This is not your house and that is not your decision to make. Father--"__  
__  
__"Our father is unwell and has not been the caretaker of this house for years. Like it or not, this is my house and what I say goes!" William turned in another coughing fit.__  
__  
__Carter cried as Charleton held him back. "No please! It was my fault! I..."__  
__  
__"No more or you will burn!" William released Thomas and pointed the weapon at the youngest lord. "Be grateful Margaret favours you, Carter, and has decided to let you stay." His lip curled as he sneered, "She will see to it personally that you mend your ways."_

~~~O~~~

_They stood next to their horses as Carter bade them goodbye. No one else saw the two men off to war. The young lord wept openly.__  
__  
__"Oi! Enough crying..." Charleton tutted.__  
__  
__"He isn't crying. He's laughing on the wrong side of his face," Thomas mused without a hint of mirth. "I will take care of him."__  
__  
__"You mean I will look after you," the younger man corrected.__  
__  
__"Take me with you," Carter pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone...with her."__  
__  
__Thomas, grabbed his younger brother by the nape and pulled him close. "I wish I could. We will come back for you."__  
__  
__"Look after yourself," Charleton added. He then looked expectantly at his master.__  
__  
__Thomas looked around them, then over his shoulder. He smiled warmly. "Go ahead."__  
__  
__The two young men clutched each other fiercely as their lips connected. Carter moaned softly as he kissed his young lover for the last time.__  
__  
__"I will come back for you." Charleton smiled. "I will take you away from here. We will go to France where the lavender is as thick as grass."__  
__  
__Thomas cleared his throat gently as the boys shyly broke their embrace. "Time to leave, Charleton." He turned to his younger brother. "I will gain his freedom for you. We will be in the King's guard." They mounted their horses and rode off as Carter wiped his eyes on his sleeve.__  
__  
__Charleton grinned and yelled back, "We will be heroes, just you wait and see."_

~~~O~~~

"I am definitely not going to like this Charleton fellow when I meet him!"

"You won't have to, Much. He died at my brother's side in that village," Carter smiled sadly. "I searched for his remains but could never find him."

"Oh...I'm sorry," Much sobered as he held his friend. "I never got the chance to meet him. It was a big camp and there were so many of us, but I remember that day. So many men died. We didn't have time to give them all a good Christian burial. Some of the poor souls we stacked like cordwood and then lit a funeral pyre. He must have been among...Oh Carter, I'm so sorry."

Carter's tears mixed with the dust on his cheek. "It's alright, Much. I will see them again. We will join them soon enough."

"I guess we will." Much changed the grim subject to one more hopeful. "What happened next? How did you get away from Margaret?"

"One night William woke up too soon from his drink. I was almost relieved when he found us and sent me away to the Holy Land. I guess he hoped I would end up dead like Thomas did eventually, in the hot sand, burying the family's shame with me." He laughed. "Maybe now I will."

Much lifted the canteens. "Last of the water, if we go, we go out with a bang." Much lifted his in toast. "To Thomas!"

Carter tipped his container to his squires. "To Charleton," he said reverently.

"So you seem to have a thing for servants," the squire tutted.

"I do seem to attract the worst sort, don't I?" Carter joked, making his lover push him away.

"See if I finish you off now," Much shot back in gallows humour. "Die of thirst you!"

"Not till you tell me yours," Carter sobered. "No secrets tonight. No more secrets between us ever, shall we by some miracle escape this place." He cuffed his lover's neck and sighed heavily as they shared a kiss. "Tell me your secrets, Much, all of them, show me your pain."

"I was hoping you would forget," Much sighed as he began.


	39. Kalilah: No Words

**Summary**: Much reveals to Carter his darkest secret about Robin. Set during 2x12, "A Good Day To Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, OC  
**Mentions:** Robin, Guy, King Richard, Marian, Lord Malcolm  
**Rating:** R (For mention of dubious consensual sex, M/M)  
**Genre:** slash, angst, dub-con

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kalilah: No Words**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

The desert sand swirled around them. How many days had they been holed up here? They had lost count. Their regiment was long gone. It was just the two of them. All that waited for them outside the abandoned village was certain death.

They had faced reality days earlier. No food, water was running low, and they were alone against the enemy. Much and Carter held each other against the incessant chanting. They knew there was no escape and it was only a matter of time before the end came.

"No one ever held you like this?" Carter asked. Did he really want to know? "Not even Robin?"

"Well..." Much knew it was only a matter of time before his lover asked the truth. "I do not want to talk about it."

"But you started this game," Carter chided. "No backing out now, squire. You must tell the truth."

Much sighed. "It was a day like this one. Unending heat. Robin had just been attacked by a Saracen about to murder the king. At the time we thought it was a Saracen - it turned out to be Gisborne, sent as an assassin." Much continued, "Robin was grievously injured. Even the healers had given up on him." The former servant's eyes glistened at the memory. "He was dying, Carter. With every second, his life slipped through my hands."

"Go on," the knight encouraged, realizing the raw memories he opened.

~~~O~~~

_Robin was so cold, even as the desert sun threatened to burn everything around them. Much was determined that if death should take his master it would have to be through him. The camp was quiet. It was as if death had marked the two men and no living person could come to their aid. It was just Much and Robin and the ever present stench of failing mortality._

~~~O~~~

The squire blinked back tears. Carter held his lover against the pain of memories too harsh to relive. "And?"

"He called to them. Oh Carter I felt each breath would be his last. He was mute with exhaustion yet still he called in a soundless whisper. He wanted his father and home, then he called for her."

~~~O~~~

_"Marian?"__  
__  
__He shouldn't have felt like that, not then, not when Robin needed him most, but the anger rose in his gut. She is not here you poor deluded fool! Much thought. She is thousands of miles away, pampered, spoiled, not even caring, and you lay here dying in my arms. I am here, master. Why is it not my name you call?__  
_

~~~O~~~

"You were jealous...of her."

Much nodded. "He was promised to her before we left to fight this foetid war. It broke my heart. I had known Robin since he was a boy, protected him, looked after him...loved him. I hated her."

"Then?" Carter nudged on.

"Robin's fever broke," Much whispered.

~~~O~~~

_Through the night Much held his master as he soundlessly shivered, cried, cursed and begged for death. Much shed his clothes and lay beside the dying man, praying his heat would save Robin. God listened.__  
__  
__The man he loved turned in his arms and his eyes were clearer.__  
__  
__It was just the two soldiers and the pleasure of being alive. Robin kissed Much and he gladly kissed back. Then it became more. The herbs the doctor left were more potent than the servant thought. Robin smiled as he covered his lover's mouth with his own. Much's heart sank when the hissed whisper of her name filled his ears. He swallowed his pride and let his master believe. "I am here, my love."__  
_

~~~O~~~

"You made love to him because he thought you were Marian," Carter reasoned.

"He begged me, Carter."

"You did it because you were scared."

Much shook his head, his eyes watering at remembered sin. "I wasn't afraid anymore. I saved my master from death itself. I was glad to be the object of his affection for one night, even under her name." For the first time Much was embarrassed. "I could not deny him what he needed. There were no words. I let him use me that way and not a word was said." It was the squire's turn to bury his head in his hands. "It hurt. I wanted to stop but a part of me wanted to go on. I let him...do that... to me, use me in her name, tell me he loved me seeing her face. I couldn't stop myself. He was sick and out of his head. I should have stopped him but I didn't." He looked up in tears. "He loved me like a brother and I betrayed him."

"And what about you, Much?"

"I wanted it too. I just wasn't ready for what happened after."

Carter held his lover in his arms as those moments were relived with tears. "Let it out. It's all right."

"I was so ill when it was over. I felt we were cursed for what I did. We sinned against God. Robin, he wouldn't even look at me. But I...I loved him. The next day it was back to the same thing. 'Much do this, Much do that.' I was just a servant again. When he recovered, he acted like it never even happened. But he remembered. I could tell in the way he spoke to me, the way he flinched when I touched him. Everything changed between us. A line was crossed and we could never go back. I ached for his touch but it also frightened me. It seemed like an eternity before we could be physically close again. He wanted more but it was never my face he saw when we had sex. At times I didn't care..."

"You were more than just a servant."

"We both had needs. I never wanted to take advantage again but I could never deny him." Much had given up trying to look into Carter's eyes. His shame was so great he spoke to the wall instead. "I wanted him to love me the way I loved him. From that point on, he owned me, body and soul. Even after we returned to England, I let him use me that way because it was the only way I could hold on to him." The squire looked at his master. "I am not a good man."

"No, Much. You are a good man. You were just placed in a bad situation."

Much turned in his lover's arms. "Am I? I talk too much, eat too much... worry." He looked at the barred windows. "Not that there isn't cause for that now."

Carter grasped his lover's chin and smiled. "I like to hear you talk, Much. I like to watch you eat. And I like to hear you talk about eating! When you worry it's comforting. I only worry when you stop."

Much looked at Carter with reservation. "I just wish I could talk to Robin one more time." He sighed heavily. "And now you know the worst about me. I took advantage of my master in his deepest hour of need."

Carter pressed his lips against Much's forehead. "What you did was not wrong. You gave a dying man what he hoped for the most, at the cost of your own conscience. Robin should be the one who should feel guilty. The first time was an accident but he was the one who came back to your bed!" He shook his head. "You did what you had to do in a difficult time. In my eyes that makes you the better man. Besides, what would you say to Robin if he was here?"

Much sighed, "We have so much to say to each other. I love him but I also hate him. I was never an equal. I wounded him, took advantage of him and hurt us both so bad he could never forgive me for it. He never wanted to talk about it and I never got to say I was sorry. He made me a free man but he never gave me my freedom." Much stopped and paused at his own realization. "You did... in more ways than you can ever imagine. I have never thanked you for that. You made me my own man and now you have cleared my mind. For that I shall be forever grateful."

Carter looked deeply into his lover's regret-filled eyes. "You're wrong about being a bad man. I see only good, in you and in your heart. He shook his head. "It is you who has freed me, more than you'll ever know, my love. That I should die here with you. I..."

The splintering sound of dry wood giving way stilled them. In the dark they could see the unmistakably shrouded figure of a Saracen climbing in through the opening.

Carter put his finger to his lips as Much's eyes widened. He quietly drew his sword and slipped to the other side of the window.

At his lover's nod he poised himself as Carter caught the enemy and pulled him into the room, dropping him to the floor. Much silently leapt on top of the man and his blade sliced down.

The Saracen rolled out of the way as the blade struck the earthen floor. He glared at the soldier, then his eyes widened. "Oh you gotta be kidding me!"

Much reacted in disgusted amazement pointing his sword at their would-be attacker. "You speak my King's English! How dare you!"

"Of course I do, Much!" The masked Saracen pulled down the scarf over his mouth and nose revealing pale flesh and blue eyes. He looked at the point of his friend's weapon. "Now if you don't mind, I'm allergic to metal...especially sharp swords."

"Yeoman Brooks?" Carter asked in almost total disbelief.

"After the night we had? Call me 'Charles', gorgeous." The former sailor grinned as he dusted himself and offered his hand to the stunned soldier.

~~~O~~~

The three men sat around in the darkness. Brooks smiled self assuredly as usual and explained what happened after the night they last saw him. "I had borrowed silver in my pocket and I hadn't made too many friends aboard ship so I decided to stay in Cyprus for a while."

"Speaking of which..." Much held out his hand with a look of scepticism on his face.

"Much!" Carter shot an incredulous look at his squire. "We are trapped in this village with the enemy surrounding us and you are concerned about money."

"Trust me. I'm good for it," Brooks replied. "Anyway, next thing I knew, I met up with the charming men you guys rescued me from the day before and found myself a guest of the 'Saracen Inn'."

"The what?" the former outlaw cut in.

"They put him in a Turk prison camp, Much," Carter explained. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Brooks smiled. "I didn't stay there long. Thanks to Abrahim."

"Abrahim?" Much crossed his arms.

"Abdullah the Jailer's son. Beautiful young man and if I may say so, excellent..."

"Can we have the short version, Charles?"

"Spoilsport!" Brooks shot an impatient look at the knight.

"He came to me one night and asked to run away with me in exchange for my freedom."

"He helped you escape?"

"He died helping me escape," Brooks sobered.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Much placed a hand on the yeoman's shoulder.

"Thanks. His father caught us. Abrahim was to be married off that week. It was a double insult for his father to not only catch his son helping the enemy escape, but to admit to his father he was also in love with him." He looked up at the two soldiers, his eyes glistening. "He ran his own son through right in front of me. I don't know what happened next but I was standing over the jailer's headless body screaming. I grabbed what Saracen clothes I could find and ran into the desert."

"How did you get here?" Carter asked.

"I travelled with the regiments in disguise, stayed on the edges, listened to their conversations." Brooks nodded to the window, "Got wind the other night that they had two of the King's private guard holed up here. Decided to see if I could do something to help." He grinned. "If I knew it was you two I would have brought more wine." He pulled out a silver flask and knocked back a shot offering it to his companions.

"Incorrigible!" Much snorted as he took the offered canteen.

"Yeah. I am and save some for Carter!" Brooks admonished. "I heard your little love story. I can't wait to meet this Robin fellow." He turned to the knight. "So, you boys are near death and he's talking about the ex."

"Robin is not my... How did you get in here?"

"I have a horse tied up in the alley." The yeoman smirked. "Play your cards right and you two might find yourselves getting away on it."


	40. Kalilah: No Rivals

**Summary**: Djaq asks Legrand to join in the game... Set during 2x12, "A Good Day To Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Legrand/Little John, Will/Djaq, Robin  
**Mentions:** Queen Eleanor, King Richard, Allan, Much, Carter  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genre:** Gen, implied slash

* * *

**Chapter Forty: Kalilah: No Rivals**  
by **  
****WastingYourGum**

-----------------

Djaq rubbed some ointment into the cut above Legrand's eye, then spoke quietly to him as she put away the small clay jar. "Legrand? Did you have anything you want to say?"

He looked at her, surprised, then shrugged and looked over at Little John. "I think I have already revealed more of my heart than I meant to."

She followed his gaze and smiled. John looked up to see them both looking at him - he coughed and quickly looked away into the fire.

"I think we both thought our love was unnoticed by others," Djaq said. "Some things are felt too strongly to stay hidden for long. It is pointless to deny your heart."

"Not if the other's heart does not return your love. And I cannot come between my Queen and what she sets _her _heart on," Legrand replied with a sigh.

Djaq took his hand in hers. "John's heart is big enough for you both, bigger than even he knows." She looked at Will. "These Englishmen - they are like the island they live on, treasuring their solitude, but reach them and their hearts are as deep as the ocean that surrounds them."

Legrand looked thoughtfully over to where Robin was still standing, also staring into the fire, keeping his thoughts very much to himself.

"Actually," he spoke louder so they could all hear him. "I do have something I should say. I owe your leader another apology."

Robin looked up at that, confused. "Me? What else could you possibly have to apologise to me for?"

Legrand ran a hand through his short blond hair. "When you joined the King's Guard, I was very rude to you. I deliberately tried to make you look bad in front of the King because...because I was jealous of how he looked at you."

"I thought you just didn't like me at first," Robin replied.

"No, I liked you from the moment we met. You are a good soldier, a good man and a fine leader. But I saw how the King looked at you, how he had never really looked at me and I let jealousy cloud my judgement of you. And for that I am sorry." He crossed over to Robin and held out his hand.

"There is nothing to forgive, Legrand. You have saved my life more often than I can remember." Robin grasped Legrand's hand and they embraced. Legrand took his seat beside Djaq again and Robin sat down between him and John.

Will looked past Djaq from Legrand to Robin and back again - how King Richard looked at Robin? He whispered to Djaq, "What is he talking about?"

Djaq looked at Will to see if he was teasing her before remembering he had never been further south than Leicester and would not even know what King Richard looked like beyond his description in tales and songs. She tried to think how best to phrase her answer. "King Richard... it is said... prefers the company of smaller, lighter men."

"Is that easier on his horses or something?" Will asked.

Djaq had to suppress a giggle. "No...he prefers them...he prefers them the way Legrand prefers John's company to mine."

Will thought about that for a second, then his eyebrows shot up. "Oh." _The way I used to prefer Allan's company to yours..._ He paused as another thought struck him. "So Carter... and Much...?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Djaq replied. "Though Much is not a noble and he...he has a slightly different look to him than Robin or Carter. He is... " She struggled to find the right words.

"He is not here and just as well, or else I may get jealous myself!" said Will.

Djaq laughed but heard the hint of truth in his words and saw the edge of doubt in his eyes. "You have no reason to be jealous of Much," she teased him. "I like quiet, pretty boys with strong, skilled hands and smooth faces, not someone who talks all the time or has a horrible, scruffy beard!" She pecked him gently on the cheek and Will resolved to remember to shave more often. He turned her face towards him and kissed her slowly. For a moment the others around the fire, the barn, the mercenaries were all forgotten.

"_Ha-hem_!" John cleared his throat loudly. "I don't care what happens tomorrow - nothing happens tonight if we're all stuck in here with you!"

Will and Djaq looked at each other and smiled. "We wouldn't dream of it, John," Djaq said, her eyes still on Will.

"_Dream _of it all you want, just don't wake me up _doing _it. We'll all need our rest tonight." John stretched his arms in front of him and cracked his knuckles.

Legrand leaned over and whispered in Djaq's ear. She looked over at John and laughed.

"What?" John looked from one to the other as they shared their private joke.

"Nothing, John. You are right - we _should _all get some rest," Djaq replied.

John frowned, sure the joke was at his expense but not certain he actually wanted to hear it.

"What did he say?" Will whispered in Djaq's ear as she snuggled into his shoulder.

"_Moi aussi, je voudrais un sommeil 'Petit'_."

Will loved the sound of her voice when she wasn't speaking English. His language always sounded too heavy for the lightness of her speech. "And what does that mean?"

"I too would like a 'Little' sleep."

"Oh... well, what's funny about that?"

Djaq shook her head, then smiled and looked up into his eyes. "I do love you, Will Scarlett."

He smiled back and kissed her again. The world around them vanished once more.


	41. Kalilah: No Equal

**Summary**: Robin realizes he's been a real arse to Much. Set during 2x12, "A Good Day To Die".

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Djaq, Little John, Will, Legrand  
**Mentions:** Much, Marian  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genre:** Gen

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One: Kalilah: No Equal**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**, **DarkenTwisted **and **WastingYourGum**

-----------------

Robin watched as Will and Djaq embraced, grateful that no-one had asked him to speak yet. He found himself wondering where Marian was at this moment and then, as they had so often recently, his thoughts turned from her to Much.

He laughed to himself as a sudden thought struck him.

"Now what?" said John.

Robin looked up to see them all watching him.

"Nothing!" said Robin sheepishly. "I just thought.. Well I just thought it's a good job Much isn't here or else we'd have to postpone the attack to give him time to talk."

Will threw a scowl at the outlaw. "Much did a lot more than just talk, you know?"

Legrand looked up. There was a harshness in Will's voice that he'd never heard before and he found himself watching the expressions on each outlaw's face.

Robin seemed surprised to hear it, too. "Of course. You're right."

Djaq studied the archer's face. "Do you really mean that, Robin?"

Robin sniggered.

Will threw up his hands in disgust. "See?"

"What?" Robin cried.

"You always took Much for granted!" Will was on his feet, looming large over Robin. For a moment Legrand wondered if he'd throw a punch but the carpenter merely drew his arms across his chest. "What did it matter that he talked too much and ate too much--"

"And worried," Little John added.

"He worried so much about you, Robin," Djaq said quietly.

"You just breezed through life, everyone's hero," Will snapped.

The accusations came rapid-fire, like Robin loosing arrows at an enemy. But this time, he was the target.

"You didn't have to worry about things like the fire or food. Much even mended your clothes -- you never had to ask," Djaq reminded him as she joined Will closer to the fire.

"Much took care of a lot of things - he was dependable like that," John said.

"Much?" Legrand rolled the name over his tongue. "He was your manservant in the Holy Land?"

Robin nodded wearily.

"Then this was his duty," the Frenchman insisted, incredulous that the others seemed ready to haul Robin across hot coals.

Will glared at Legrand then turned back on the archer. "Robin made Much a free man."

"I remember how his eyes would brighten when he spoke of the two of you in the Holy Land. You were a team." Thinking of the stories Much told around their campfires made Djaq miss him that much more. "You went through those times together. The good and the bad. The unspeakable horrors."

John nodded. "Brothers in arms."

"What happened to that?" Will asked.

"Gone," John answered.

Djaq's eyes glinted in the firelight. "You did not talk to him."

"Why couldn't you talk to him, Robin?" Will's anger faded and a pained expression filled his face. Djaq curled her arm around his waist. "You made him a free man. You claimed he was your equal."

John shook his head. "You weren't equals."

"You treated him like a servant," Will said, "not like a friend."

"Enough!" Robin thumped the pillar next to him so hard that the ground shook under their feet. "How I treated my manservant is of no concern to any one of you now!" He turned back toward the fire. "Besides what can I do about it anyway? I will make amends to him in the afterlife."

"He might already be there," John mused sadly.

Everyone stopped at the whispered lament from the big man. Djaq looked at him from Will's embrace. "Do not say that, John! He is a good man and Allah will look after him!"

"War is dangerous, _cher_," Legrand softly tutted. "Men die everyday over there. Good men."

Djaq didn't need to be reminded of that but her emotions got the better of her. "Not Much!" she cried before she buried her moist eyes into her lover's shoulder.

"I saw him." Robin looked up at the others. "When I was looking for the sheriff. I saw him."

"How did you see him?"

"I don't know, John! Maybe it was the panic of the situation, or the sun playing tricks on me, or maybe... All I know is he was there, as real as you are standing there now." He stared back into the fire. "All I know is that for the first time in months it felt right. I felt whole again." He looked up at Will again as the tears started to fall. "You think I don't miss him? He was more than my servant. He was the brother I never had. If anything happened to him..." He looked over at the giant outlaw. "He knew how I felt about him, didn't he, John?"

John shook his head. "I don't know." He got up and walked away.

The others left Robin by the fire, lost in his own self doubt.

~~~O~~~

"He is not dead, Robin." Djaq smiled offering a plate of food. "I would know if he was and my heart has hope." She took his calloused hand in her smaller, soft one. "Just as I know we will get out of this."

Robin shot a look across the barn at Will whittling on a birch branch he found. Occasionally the young carpenter would cast a furtive glance at the outlaw leader. "You don't share your suitor's thoughts?"

Djaq picked up a twig, poked at the fire, and smiled. "Will is a young man and has never travelled far from Locksley." She darkened as she spoke. "He has no idea how cruel the world can be and what happens when you are alone in it."

"He watched his mother starve and his father die in front of him."

"But he has never had to deal with that alone." Djaq smiled as if she was dealing with an uncomprehending child instead of an English lord in exile. "You have, so has Much...and so have I." She nodded. "He sees servitude where I see brotherhood."

"He's right. You all are. I was not a friend to Much."

Djaq clasped her arms around the outlaw. "He always said you never talked to him. You could talk to others about the war but not him. Why did he say that, Robin?"

"I wanted to but...I can't explain why. I just couldn't. We lived through the horror together." Robin closed his eyes against memories--and not just of war--too ugly to share. "Much seemed to plod right through it, but me..."

Djaq listened quietly, thoughtfully. Like Robin, she knew people dealt with those voices of the past in different ways. War changed them. And whether they admitted it or not, they'd not come away from that experience unscathed.

Robin sighed. "I could see every man I killed when I closed my eyes each night. I watched them die over and over in my dreams. I know Much needed me and he was there for me, but I couldn't be there for him. He was the one man who really knew what I went through and I could not even let him cry on my shoulder." Robin's eyes were wet as he sought hers. "There were times I couldn't even look at him because he reminded me of things I'd done that I was not proud of." His mind wandered. Robin thought of the many times he took comfort from Much. He didn't dare tell the gang of the nights they shared and what he made his former servant do to ease his own loneliness. Robin's heart sank at the memory. Much had been more than a friend. He sighed. "I let him down and now I can never tell him how I felt about him."

Will stole another glance toward his lover. He knew better than to feel jealous as her hand snaked into Robin's again. He saw the firelight glint off the outlaw's eyes, noticed the tenderness in Djaq's touch. She always seemed to know how to soothe the hurt. Her compassion made him love her that much more.

"He already knows, Robin." Djaq ran her hand along his cheek. "And some day soon you will tell him, in this life or the next."

Will set his whittling aside and approached his friends. The young carpenter placed a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder. "Forget what I said," he told the outlaw. Djaq's eyes smiled up at him.

John wandered back toward the fire. "We shouldn't have said those things."

From his sentry post Legrand looked back at Djaq and the other outlaws. "You were a bit harsh."

"No, they are right, Legrand," Robin told the Frenchman. He looked back into the faces of his gang. "You were right. And I'll make sure I tell Much how you--my loyal friends--made me understand that," Robin replied. "All right. Let's get the weapons ready. As soon as there's light to see by we go."

"No," John said firmly. "No."

"John! We agreed this!"

"You have not spoken, Robin. It's your turn."

Robin planted his hands on his hips. "We have a few moments left on this earth. Let me have my thoughts to myself. I'll share them with you in the next life."

"Robin, if there is a heaven, yours is different from mine," Djaq said.

"What if there isn't a heaven?" Will asked.

"It's almost light."

"Robin..." John implored.

"You know my thoughts. They are for the poor. They are for you," Robin said, his eyes moist with regret for the lives his gang might never see. "And they're for Marian, the woman I love, the woman who recently I gave a ring to."

"You're engaged?" Djaq asked.

"The woman who makes me believe that by a twist of fate we might just be able to see this through. And if Much was here, I'd tell him that I betrayed his friendship but I think you know why." Will frowned and shook his head. He drew a blank stare from John and Legrand. "I wasn't as strong as Much. I have to put those things we saw in the Holy Land out of my mind because if I don't I wouldn't be able to lead. I mean, I wouldn't be able to--"

"What?" Will asked.

"It doesn't mat--"

"--to shoot," John said quietly.

"Shoot? Of course you can shoot," Legrand insisted.

"No. John's right. In the holy land, the men we saw...in bits...screaming." Robin took a breath, released it. "Every time I raise my bow I see them. I hear them and I know now whether it was right or wrong, what we did in the Holy Land, it makes no difference. So I have to try not to kill. I have to avoid killing. I mean, God gave me the gift with bow. I can kill with my eyes closed, I mean I can kill a man from a thousand yards and have to try everything in my power not to. And that's why I wasn't there for Much in his hour of need because I just have to let those memories go. I just have to be free."

"Why didn't you tell him?" John asked.

"It doesn't matter now. In a few moments we'll be free forever."

"Well... here's to freedom," Legrand said.

"Here's to the poor." Will held Djaq tightly in his arms hoping his brother Luke and people like John's Alice and Little Little John would have better lives. "Here's to the good people we leave behind."

John looked at his friends with fierce yet quiet determination. "We...are Robin Hood."

"We are Robin Hood," each of the outlaws repeated.

~~~O~~~

While the others were resting in preparation for battle, Will turned in restless sleep and sat bolt upright. Djaq was nowhere to be found. In a dim corner of the loft a soft tinkling sound and that of ripping fabric caught his attention.

Djaq spun around in embarrassed shock as her eyes matched the surprise of her lover's. "I did not want to wake you."

"What are you doing?" Will asked, almost dream-like as he took in the sight.

Skin, too much skin, brightly coloured silks and tiny bells encircled her waist and what was left of her tunic clung suggestively to her full breast. Djaq's dark hair swept against her neck in a way it never did in battle. Her shy look caught his. The woman he knew, who was his friend and lover, was gone but yet still there. Now she was something more, she was Safiyya.

She moistened her lips and spoke hesitantly. "I think I have figured out a way for us to escape..."


	42. Only Fools Rush In

**Summary**: If you overheard conversations about a barn in Nettlestone, Robin and the gang, and a plot to kill the king, what would _you _do? This chapter takes place during 2x12 at Nottingham Castle.

**Characters/Pairings**: 3 former residents of Locksley and a Fool, Marian, Allan, Guy, the Sheriff  
**Mentions:** the Gang  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genre:** Gen

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Two: Only Fools Rush In**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic**

-----------------

"I told you there weren't no jobs in the kitchens!"

The two villagers wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the castle back toward the bailey. Matthew decided he wasn't too disappointed about not finding work. Being employed anywhere in Vaizey's stronghold wasn't all that desirable. They _did _need the money though he wasn't about to admit that his friend had been wrong. "But Thomas said--"

"Well your friend was wrong, wasn't he?"

He brushed off the all-too-familiar sarcasm in his companion's voice. He tried to look for the positive despite the hard times and the pessimism that ran rampant in his family. "Maybe we could pick up a penny packing that carriage they were loading when we came in."

"A penny? That'll go far to feed us, won't it?"

"Better than nothin'," he replied cheerfully as they rounded a corner. "Hold on--" He tugged his companion deep into the shadows of the passageway. "It's the sheriff."

Vaizey's gaze was focused on a mercenary coming through the portcullis on horseback. Curiosity got the better of them and the two young peasants edged closer hoping to eavesdrop as the overseer of Nottingham greeted the hired soldier. The conversation was short-lived. The sheriff's smile faded and the two men headed into the castle.

"Did he say Nettlestone?"

"I think so. What are they doin' in Nettlestone?" Matthew grimaced. "Wasn't taking over Locksley enough?"

"It's not right, it's just not right! I bet whatever is happening is because of Hood."

Frustration filled Matthew's face. "Robin has tried to help our people. You know that!"

"Well where was he when Gisborne turned the villagers out, eh?"

"You know he'd be there if he could. What's his small gang against hundreds of mercenaries? He will set it right. He just has to plan it all out. You wait. You'll see."

"I thought they said Hood had people everywhere!"

A commotion out in the ward quieted them. Allan A Dale was headed their way. The Lady Marian called after him, hot on his heels. Marian looked beautiful but flustered, a look of dread on her face that made them both shudder. Still hidden in the shadows, the two nosey peasants inched forward along the wall to watch the Lady and the former outlaw. Marian's expression turned from alarmed to determined as she followed Allan into a storeroom.

They hadn't intended to spy on anyone but this was just too hard to resist. Snatches of the conversation drifted their way. _King...stop it...kill...leave it...Nottingham...safe. No, but I can't find Robin! _That last was said in a voice so vehement yet desperate that both of the snoops sucked in a breath. They looked at each other wondering if a bit of innocent eavesdropping could lead to a whole lot of trouble.

Neither had to strain to hear the next words the lady uttered.

"Look, Gisborne and the sheriff are ready to leave now!" Marian exclaimed. "There's no time for this. Would you please help me?"

Allan's reply was muted and then he turned back to his chores. When Marian threw a right hook and knocked him to the ground, the amateur spies both flinched, drawing back when she grabbed Allan's sword and moved stealthily back toward the castle.

Neither of the peasants moved, each one trying to process what they'd heard. They had little time time to think when Gisborne's voice suddenly reverberated through the passageway. The dark knight spotted Allan struggling to rise and helped him up.

"She stole my sword, Guy," Allan barked. "She's gonna try to kill the sheriff."

"That fool!" Gisborne shouted. "What did you tell her?"

"I dinnit tell her anything." Allan massaged his sore jaw as he followed Gisborne from the storeroom. "She has all these crazy ideas about the sheriff plannin' to kill the king." The two men rushed across the courtyard, up the stairs, and disappeared into the castle.

Matthew looked at his companion. "Did you hear that?"

"It's none of our business. C'mon. We should leave."

"But Lady Marian--she's in trouble."

"Oi, Matthew! Let's the two of us rush the guards and just waltz into the castle right now." She rolled her eyes. "Mother'll have my hide if she knows I even let you think about that. The lady is on her own."

She was right and Matthew knew it. He peered around the corner eyeing the activity at the bottom of the stairs. "They're still packing. Looks like a long trip. Is that the sheriff's carriage?"

"I dunno."

"He was checkin' up on it when that mercenary arrived."

"Doesn't mean it's his. C'mon, let's go."

Matthew grabbed her arm. "But if Lady Marian was right, the sheriff could be headed to ki--"

"Keep your voice down, little brother!" She glared at him. "And let go of me, please. There's nothing we can do. It doesn't matter. Don't you get it?"

Matthew shook his head. She'd spent too much time listening to their mother.

Suddenly, the castle doors flew open. Two soldiers escorted Lady Marian and shoved her into the waiting carriage. The sheriff--alive and well--trotted smugly down behind them. Allan and Gisborne appeared at the top of the steps a moment later, exchanged a few words, and then joined their companions.

"Where d'ya s'pose they're headed?" Matthew asked as the carriage headed toward the gate. "Maybe the Lady Marian is right."

Neither of the spies heard the quiet footfalls of the men who'd come up behind them.

"Oi, Andrew. Looks like we aren't the only ones interested in the sheriff's travel plans."

Matthew glanced sidelong at his sister and they both started to run. The soldiers grabbed them before they'd taken more than two steps. "Stop! Let us go!"

"Hold on there!" one of the soldiers exclaimed. "We're on your side, Kate."

The young girl's eyes grew wide. "Luke Scarlett!" she exclaimed as the man removed his helmet. "And you...I know you," she beamed.

"Andrew," the Fool replied with a bow. They'd met months before in Locksley on Sir Guy's birthday. "At your service, milady."

Kate turned back to Luke. "What are you doin' here?"

"Well, I'm glad to see you, too!" Luke playfully ran his hand across the braid in her hair. "Still wearing that stupid-looking braid, I see."

"Yeah," she spat. "It keeps shallow, foolish boys like you and your brother away from me!"

"Now children," the Fool said, "you can discuss your love life later."

Luke chuckled, remembering how Will used to moon over Kate. "He's right," he said, the teasing long forgotten. "Robin needs our help."

"How do you know that?"

"While you were out here, Andrew and I were inside doing a bit of snooping. The sheriff is headed to the Holy Land. He plans to kill the king."

"Lady Marian was right!" Matthew said.

Luke nodded. "And those mercenaries have Robin and the gang trapped."

"In Nettlestone?" Matthew replied. "See, Kate, what did I tell you!"

"Are you with us?" Luke asked.

Kate eyed her brother and the two men. "Sounds like nothing but trouble to me," she hissed.

"To Nettlestone then?" the Fool urged.

"Are we all fools?" Kate asked. "There's four of us."

Luke nodded stoically. "A hundred or so mercenaries."

"We can't let them take Robin," Matthew insisted.

"I know, I know," Kate replied. She tapped the armour on Luke's chest. "Those uniforms should come in handy."

"I think the lady may have a plan," the Fool said.

The men smiled and one by one planted their hands out, one on top of the other, to show their unity. Kate laid hers on last and looked at them with grim determination. "So what are we waitin' for?" she exclaimed. "Lead, follow, or get out of the way!"

~~~O~~~**  
**

**A/N: **last line is a quote from Thomas Paine.


	43. With A Little Help From My Friends

**A/N: thank you so much to everybody who's stuck with us so far and sorry for the delay in this chapter. Things get more complicated from here on in so we're writing much more as a team than individually and transatlantic collaboration is a tricky thing (especially with clocks going back at different times!)  
**

* * *

**Summary**: The mercenaries have Robin and the gang trapped. How will they get out of this mess?

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Little John, Will/Djaq, Legrand, Luke, the Fool (Andrew), Kate, Matthew, Ellingham  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Genre:** Gen

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Three: With a Little Help From My Friends**  
by **  
****RobinFanatic, DarkenTwisted & WastingYourGum**

-----------------  
First light. Robin sat up and looked around the barn. John was awake, staring into the fire. Legrand peered through a crevice in the wall, apprising the situation and looking for a way out, always the soldier. But there was no way out for any of them...this time. They were surrounded by a hundred mercenaries who could either burn them alive or wait them out until they starved. Certain death either way. And the plan he'd devised wasn't even half a plan. They'd all be dead within a matter of minutes once they charged Vaizey's hunters. This is what he'd brought his friends to. He almost wished they hated him. He'd let them down.

How many times had he been in situations that seemed hopeless and somehow, some way, he'd always managed to figure a way out. But this was the end for him, and he hated that he was taking these good people with him. Will and Djaq--a couple--no more time to explore their new found love. John--Robin always felt certain that he'd see his son again--but now those hopes were forever dashed. And Legrand--one of King Richard's best and bravest knights. True, they'd go down fighting, yet it still seemed like such a bitter end. But he'd trust that Marian, Much and Carter would live to tell their tale.

He glanced up at the loft. At least he'd given two people a chance to love one last time. An hour earlier he offered his solemn blessing to Will and Djaq as the rightful Lord Locksley. It had been hard to shut out the sounds of their love-making. They'd tried to stifle their rasping breaths and moans but it still sent aches through the three men listening. As dawn broke there were different movements and whispers coming from the loft and then their voices grew steadily louder.

"I know you're concerned, Will Scarlett, and I love you for that. But I think this could work." Djaq's voice sounded confident.

"No! Take that off!" Will half-shouted. "It's too dangerous."

Robin, Legrand and John looked at each other. A scuffling noise made the other three outlaws turn their heads upwards.

"And Robin's plan for us to just charge outside is not?" Djaq replied from the top of the ladder as she began to descend from the loft.

John's eyes grew wide. Legrand turned and stared. Robin gulped and hastily averted his eyes.

"Djaq!" Will called, the frustration in his voice sounding loud and clear. It almost matched the sound from the bells around the Saracen's waist. What was left of Djaq's outfit was adorned with colourful silks that made up a diaphanous skirt. Her midriff was bare and her grown-out, dark locks fell softly around her shoulders. Any resemblance to the outlaw she was would have been doubtful as the gang looked the young woman over. Will groaned. "At least close your mouths, mates!"

The Saracen girl blushed under the other outlaws hungry eyes. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the last time the others saw her in a more feminine light. That dress she had worn as a serving girl in the castle had been cut way too low and way too high. The looks on Will, Allan, and even John's faces had embarrassed her yet made her feel special at the same time. She felt that way now.

"Djaq," Robin said, "what is going on?"

The Saracen looked at her leader defiantly. "I am going to distract those mercenaries."

"In that?" John asked. He suddenly noticed, "Bells? Where did you find bells?"

Legrand looked at his friend. "I thought we might have some music at the party. I was told you liked them, _mon ami_."

John glared at the carpenter. "I wonder who told him that?"

Will avoided the large outlaw's gaze. "I thought you would enjoy..."

"You, I will deal with later!" John growled.

"It just might work," Legrand smiled as he returned his gaze to the scantily clad Saracen. "_La femme fatale_."

"I planned for that too," Djaq grinned showing the Frenchman the dagger strapped to her thigh.

"Enough of that!" Will barked as he hastily pulled down his lover's skirt and glared at Legrand. "I don't like it," he said, trying to shield his girlfriend from ogling eyes.

"They won't shoot me," Djaq argued. "Trust me. I'll do a little dance as they gather around--"

"They'll know it's a trick."

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed. "But they are men!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked.

Robin chuckled. Djaq rolled her eyes and ran her hand along his cheek. "Now John," she replied, "must I really explain?"

Robin and Will pushed aside the cart by the door.

"What do you think, John?" Will asked as the big man as he pulled away the beam holding the door tight against their enemies. "A good day?"

"Yes."

Will pulled his sword from his scabbard and stood ready. Robin nodded to John and Legrand. For the first time, Djaq appeared worried, her eyes moist. She looked at the faces of her friends and then turned to Will to share one last kiss.

"Godspeed 'til we meet again," John said.

"See you in heaven, my friends," Robin added.

Will prepared to fling open the door and throw his love to the wolves.

~~~O~~~

"Help me!" Djaq called out to the mercenary guarding the door.

He drew his weapon but hesitated at the large brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "You're a woman! Oi! Wot you doin' in 'ere?"

"I am a gift to the outlaw leader," Djaq replied with as much shame and sadness in her voice as she could muster. "I am a slave. They bought me for his bidding." She looked up. "Please! I have been trapped in here with these filthy outlaws for days...I do not wish to die."

"Filthy outlaws?" John mouthed.

"Your Saracen is quite the actress," Legrand grinned.

Will shook his head. "I don't like this!"

"Let her try." Robin placed his hand on the carpenter's shoulder. "Our only other option is death."

Ellingham's eyes grew large at the sight of the exotically dressed wench talking to the guard. "What is this?"

"Entertainment for Hood!" the mercenary replied.

"Seems our outlaws have excellent taste in women," the leader leered as he grasped the small woman's round face in his hands.

Djaq glared and suppressed the urge to spit in his face then softened. "I can be yours too. Just don't let me back in there again. Please?"

"I could use a little entertainment myself," Ellingham sneered.

"What's happening now?" Will was barely controlling his anger.

"Ellingham's men are leading Djaq away," John replied as his heart sank.

"I have to go after her!" Will started for the door but was forcefully restrained by the large Frenchman.

"Let her do this, Will." Robin looked out of the cracks in the wall.

"But they might hurt her!" The carpenter was almost in tears as Legrand held him.

"Djaq's plan might fail, my friend, but she will survive this." Robin turned, "I would rather it be her that did and you would too."

Music started as the outlaws spun and looked out at the scene that unfolded in front of them.

"She's dancing!" John gasped.

Djaq was hoisted on a table top and was moving seductively around in time to the music of the mercenaries' drums and pipes.

"I have to make her stop!" Will cried.

"We will...but I think it's working," Robin pondered.

Even the guards at the barn door stopped and looked at the exotic dancer as she nervously cast her eyes toward them. Djaq knew she had one chance to make her plan work. She loosened one of the silk panels at her waist and let it fall. The shimmy of her hips was hypnotic. She was the only one who seemed to notice the two castle guards who galloped in the village from the hills on horseback, dismounted, and walked up to the men near the barn door.

"Who are they?" John asked.

"Castle guards," Robin nodded. "I wonder what they are up to?"

Ellingham's men called him over to the guards.

"We have orders from the Sheriff to deliver the outlaws to the castle," the first guard said.

Ellingham unfurled the scroll handed to him and sniffed for a second. He looked over his shoulder as the dancing girl let another silk fall from her waist to the boisterous cheers of his soldiers. "They are my prisoners. I get to collect the price on their heads!"

"You will get paid," the other guard spoke. "We need to secure the prisoners." He looked over the hill at a small flash of light.

~~~O~~~

"Hold!" Legrand said. "There's something...something reflecting off the hillside to the south. Reminds me how the sun used to reflect off armour and nearly blind us out in the desert. Remember the old tricks we'd use for the _all clear_ into a village?"

"Some kind of signal?" Robin wondered.

Will peered out the door. "Those guards talking to Ellingham, they're headed this way."

"What's going on?" Robin asked.

Legrand had his eyes peeled on the activities beyond their prison. "The mercenaries are starting to leave, Robin," he said.

One of the soldiers pounded on the barn door.

"What about Djaq?" Will asked, his line of sight blocked by the two new arrivals.

"Still there--near Ellingham," Legrand reported.

"Open up!" the man shouted, his voice booming. "We're here on behalf of the sheriff."

Robin nodded. "Let them in!"

"C'mon!" John growled, readying his quarterstaff.

"It's all right, John. Let's see what they want," Robin told the big man.

Will pushed the door open. Legrand dragged one of the soldiers into the barn.

"Thank goodness you're alive!" the second soldier exclaimed as Will tugged him inside. His eyes grew wide. He knew that voice.

"Luke!" Will grabbed his brother in a huge bear hug as the younger Scarlett removed his helmet.

Andrew the Fool bowed slightly, removing his own head gear. "Felicitations are welcome, however, we have little time for such pleasantries, my friends."

Despite the Fool's concern, the gang embraced the two men. Legrand looked on with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did you bring more help, say, others up in the hills?"

Andrew threw the Frenchman a sly grin. "We have friends with fresh horses."

"I _knew_ that was a signal," Legrand said proudly.

"Look we don't have time to explain," Luke said. "We spun 'em a yarn. We gotta get outta here before they're on to us."

"The Sheriff and Gisborne are going to the Holy Land."

"The Holy Land?" Will said.

"They're headed to Portsmouth and they're going to kill the king."

"Right. We need to get out of here." Robin looked resolutely at his friends. "Now."

A few moments later Luke opened the barn door. Andrew prodded the outlaws forward, their hands loosely bound. "It's all right. They're coming quietly," Luke shouted at Ellingham. "The show's over."

Will spotted Djaq and felt a moment's relief until he noticed how pale she looked. She shook her head, looking nervously from Ellingham to his long-haired, skinny, bird-like lieutenant.

Luke hauled the outlaws toward the mercenaries. He felt sweat soaking his face beneath the helmet and it wasn't because it was warm on this October day. They might just pull this off. Most of the mercenaries had withdrawn. A handful of them milled about behind Ellingham, probably disappointed there would be no outlaws to torture tonight. The two lone riders approaching from the hills to the south garnered no attention. "Gotta get this rabble back to the castle," he told the mercenary leader.

"Sure," Ellingham said, "the sheriff wants to talk to the outlaws in the castle."

"Yeah," Luke replied.

"Well that's strange, that." Ellingham pointed toward his lieutenant. "'Cos a little birdie told me that the sheriff left the castle yesterday."

"You're joking. Did he?" The fool said winking at the exotically dressed outlaw behind them. Djaq's eyes widened in recognition. "Let's ask him then." He reached into the sleeve of his jerkin and pulled out a pigeon, then tossed it at the mercenary leader.

"Nice try," Ellingham snarled as he waved off the bird. "Get them!"

Djaq suddenly yelled, "Nobody move or I will kill him!" The Saracen whipped her hidden dagger out, its blade under the mercenary leader's throat. Everyone froze in place, not sure what to make of the surreal scene of the dancing girl taking their leader hostage. Djaq's chest heaved with nervous excitement. Her dark eyes flashed. "Release my friends! Let them go! Now...or I spill his blood where he stands!"

"You are just a slave girl!" Ellingham tried to reason with her. "What is such a pretty bird doing with such a nasty weapon?"

Djaq hissed with a grin, "I am Robin Hood! Release them or die!"

The outlaws took full advantage of the momentary pause and Robin commanded with a yell for his friends to fight.

A dozen mercenaries charged. The sound of swords being unsheathed from scabbards bit the early morning air. The outlaws, Luke and Andrew spread out, angling their weapons before the onslaught.

"You got no chance!" Ellingham barked as metal met metal, signalling blood would be drawn. "You're gonna die!" He grabbed the small Saracen's wrist and twisted out of her grasp. Djaq swiftly jumped back out of his reach as he drew his own dagger and they warily circled each other. Ellingham lunged at her. She side-stepped, knocking the knife from his hand, bringing the hilt of her own down upon his wrist. The mercenary leader swore, her blade missing his throat by mere inches. As he spun back away from her one of his men shouted for his attention and threw him a sword. He caught it and turned back to his opponent with an evil grin.

Will wasted no time coming to his lover's aid. "Djaq! Catch!" He grabbed a sword from an already fallen mercenary and threw it to Djaq as she hastily backed away from Ellingham. Soon both of them had the leader struggling as they traded blows against his sword. "Are you all right?" he asked as they fought alongside each other.

"You think because I am a girl I cannot handle a man?" Djaq purred as she swung up to block Ellingham's sword against the carpenter.

"In that outfit, right now? No!" Will shot back.

Djaq grinned as she hurled her blade, impaling another attacking soldier behind them. She leapt for the dying man's sword and in one turn grabbed her lover and kissed him. "This is more fun than in the barn!" she shouted, blocking the swing of another opponent's blade as Will harassed Ellingham.

John suddenly lunged in and took over, trading blows with the mercenary. "Today is not a good day for either of you to die!" he grunted.

Luke's sword found the enemy's. He brought it crashing down, a single slash that saw another man go down that day. Andrew held his own, exchanging blows with an unsuspecting mercenary who found his leggings slipping past his knees.

Ellingham barrelled toward the outlaw leader. Ducking beneath the swing of the mercenary's sword, Robin thrust his long blade at Ellingham and missed. Momentum took him past the mercenary. He turned as Ellingham charged and pressed the attack. Ellingham blocked the long blade again and brought his own toward Robin. Robin threw his arm up to check the assault, snagged the mercenary's arm and twisted it behind his back. John's quarterstaff met the man's belly and shattered. He delivered a swift kick to Ellingham's head and the man hit the ground with a thud.

"We _are _gonna die!" John shouted at their fallen adversary. "But _not _today!"

"John!" Legrand shouted.

John turned and saw Legrand's staff flying toward him. He caught it one-handed and raised it over his head in a sign of victory to meet the sword the Frenchman had unsheathed.

Ellingham crawled away from the fray, incredulous that this small band of worthless outlaws was taking down some of his best warriors. "Call back the men!" he ordered as Djaq parried with his lieutenant, her sword ripping his neck.

Legrand crossed blades with another warrior, dragging the man's sword into an arc above their heads then down toward the ground. His weight behind the movement threw his foe off balance. He fell to the ground, his gut pierced by Legrand's sword, his scream lost in the clanging and crashing of metal. To his side, Will and Djaq danced around their target. Another mercenary drew up behind Will, but his axe made quick work of him. Will turned in time to see Djaq jump backwards to avoid a sword point. Will swung his axe across the back of Djaq's opponent. "She's with me," he said as his Saracen lover plunged her sword into the man with a wild cry.

Luke bellowed a warning and his sword came down, cutting off another enemy assault meant for Will.

The carpenter threw a grateful nod to his little brother. "Glad you're back!"

"It's good to be back!" Luke shouted as the outlaws started to celebrate their victory.

Dozens of mercenaries reappeared on the hill and began to charge back toward the barn. "I told you you were going to die!" Ellingham bellowed.

Suddenly, two riders with a half dozen horses galloped into the fray, blocking the path between the outlaws and their adversaries. Robin jumped over the rump and into the saddle of one of the mounts. "Like we said," he shouted, grasping the animal's reins and staring Ellingham down. "Not today!" He nodded toward the gang. "C'mon, lads!"

"Get them!" Ellingham ordered, too late as the the outlaws fled over the hill and into the forest.

~~~O~~~

Deep in Sherwood, Robin reined in his horse. The outlaws and their rescuers should have been celebrating victory and another narrow escape but something was wrong and it hung in the air like a dead weight.

Kate looked at her brother. "We should be going back to Locksley."

"I'm going with them," Luke nodded toward the gang.

"It's not safe," Will shook his head. "I can't have anything happen to you now. Not after Dad..."

"I am almost sixteen now...almost a man! I can decide for myself. Besides, you need me. You'd still be stuck in that barn if it wasn't for us!"

"To the camp then?" Legrand asked.

"There's no time," Luke said. "Listen, there's something I haven't told you."

"What is it?" Robin asked.

"The Sheriff and Gisborne have got Marian."

"It's true," Andrew added. "We overheard the conversation at the castle, most troubling indeed."

Robin's eyes flashed with pain. "Vaizey and Gisborne have Marian?"

"She wanted to save the king," Luke said. "She couldn't find you so she tried to kill the sheriff and got caught."

"Luke is right," John shot back. "We haven't got time. We go to the coast. Now!"

"Yes!" Luke smiled.

"Not you," Will reasoned with his little brother. "We need someone to look after the camp and the villages while we are gone."

Djaq added, "With the gang gone, who knows what the sheriff's mercenaries will do."

"I will gladly do that for you," Andrew the Fool offered. "I can look after young Luke here as well till you return."

"I can help protect the villages too," Matthew excitedly offered.

"Sounds like I will be keeping the three of you out of trouble then," Kate chimed in. She looked at Robin and smiled shyly, nodding her head in approval, "Go save her, Lord Locksley."

"Thank you. All of you," Robin said.

Legrand spurred his mount and the other outlaws followed, leaving the three men and one woman behind.

Robin stared after them a moment wondering when he might see his homeland again. "I'm coming, my love. I'm coming."


	44. That I Would Gladly Take Thine Place

**Summary**: Allan sacrifices everything to protect Marian's honour.

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan/Vaizey, Guy, Marian  
**Rating:** R (For mention of dubious consensual sex, M/M)  
**Genre:** slash, angst, dub-con  
**Disclaimer:** BBC & Tiger Aspect own; we just want to play in their universe.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Four: That I Would Gladly Take Thine Place**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"But I thought I was your boy, Gis?" Allan was near tears as he was led away by the nasty little man to the next room.

"For the next hour or so you're mine," Vaizey purred as he pulled the young man away.

Gisborne sneered as the door shut. He felt disgusted with himself for what he had just done. There wasn't enough spirits in the bottle he held to rinse the taste from his mouth or dull the screams from the next room.

"You are my boy, Allan," he whispered as a single tear fell. "I am letting him do this for us."

He retched into the chamber pot next to him then slid over to the bed and wrapped the pillow around his ears to drown out the horrible noises.

~~~O~~~

The next morning Guy arose from the cot. His head hammered in protest as he raised himself.

It was quiet...too quiet. He stared at the door...that door...and he dreaded what was behind it.

Sheer force of will caused him to open the heavy creaking entrance. He held his breath.

Vaizey was curled up in a ball and presumably passed out. The dirty sheets on the bed wadded around him. Blood stained the bed and the washbasin making the black knight's heart sink. What had he done?

"Allan..." he called softly.

"Your little plaything is not here," Vaizey contemptuously muttered. He looked up grinning evilly with his gap toothed smile. "But oh the time we had!"

"I swear if you hurt him..." Guy hissed.

"You'll what? Wish you had joined in?" Vaizey laughed as Gisborne ran from the room.

Guy's heart leapt from his chest. He ran to the tavern, tore open the door and looked at the confused patrons inside. _What if he left in the night?_ he thought. He turned to the stables and into the stall where Marian was being held.

In the dim light he found him. Marian had tossed her blanket over bruised and battered flesh on the former outlaw's back. He was still sobbing as Guy came over.

"What have you done to him!" Her blue eyes flashed.

"I didn't...I wouldn't..." Guy's face was creased with anguish. He reached out his hand and touched Allan's bruised chin. The younger man recoiled in horror and snuggled into the noblewoman's shoulder sobbing harder.

"Don't...you touch him!" Marian glared. "You monster! Don't you ever touch him again!"

~~~O~~~

"How is he?" Marian spat when Guy returned.

"The healer managed to stop the bleeding."

The noblewoman for once was grateful she was shackled to the wall. She was afraid of what she would do to him if her hands were free. "You let that...that maniac hurt him! How could you...?"

"I had to!" Guy glared. "The sheriff was drunk. He wanted me to prove my loyalty to him." His usually cold grey eyes were clouded with the demons behind them. "He wanted to play a game. He told me to choose. I chose you!"

Marian blanched. She knew they were in the presence of a sadist and a madman but the revelation made her blood run cold.

"I couldn't let him do that to you." Gisborne cried as he spoke. "Of all people, not you!" He looked away as he stood up, not wanting to feel her accusing eyes on him any more. "I only hope he forgives me."

"Allan or God?" Marian looked up defiantly.

"Both," Gisborne muttered as he walked away.

~~~O~~~

Marian awoke to the realization that the carriage had stopped moving. Both Vaizey and Guy were gone and Allan was still huddled into a shapeless mass in the opposite corner. "Allan!" She hissed. There was no response from the quiet grey shape in the corner and she feared the worst. "Allan!"

"Yeah, Maz, I'm here."

"We have to figure a way out of here. You have to get to Robin and warn the gang..."

Allan chuckled an empty, soulless laugh. "Not bein' funny but I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Allan, don't be stupid! You are not their prisoner, I am. You are your own man..."

"I'm not anythin'. I'm a coward. I betrayed the gang. I'm nothing but a common thief and a liar. I don't even have a proper name to call my own. Bein' a man was the only thing I rightfully had left and I let the sheriff take that away from me last night." He wiped away hot tears on a ragged sleeve. "Dunnit matter any more. Soon I won't be anyone's problem but the worms."

"You're talking nonsense, Allan!" Marian paused when she saw the plant in the former outlaw's hand. "What is that?"

The poacher picked the red berries off the small branch. "Djaq called it 'Devil's Cherry'...I think. I found some growin' when I was....well when I was tryin' to... you know." He blustered, "It hurt like hell, Marian! The sheriff, 'e messed me up real good." His blue eyes stood out in brilliant contrast to the redness around them, adding weight to his tortured expression. "How can I live with what he did to me?" He stifled more tears as he looked away from the lady in shame. "How could I have done that to Will?"

Marian became angry. They'd not gotten this far and survived just so she could watch her last chance of returning to Robin take his own life. "Go ahead!" she spat. "Eat them!"

"'S'cuse me?" Allan showed the first sign of anything besides self pity since the conversation started.

The look of disbelief on his face encouraged Marian to continue. "You said yourself. You betrayed the gang. You lied, you cheated." She levelled her eyes at him. "And now you tell me you even turned on your best friend." She looked away angrily. "You...are the lowest of the low, Allan A'Dale. If that is even your real name. Do the world a favour and eat the damn berries. Just quit snivelling about it!"

Allan's eyes watered. She had never seen a grown man about to cry before and her heart sank. It was all a lie and she knew it. But she was desperate.

"I...I thought you cared," Allan gasped.

"I do care. But you want to kill yourself and leave me alone." She motioned outside. "With them!"

Allan looked down at the deadly fruit in his hand. He looked hopefully up at the lady. "There's enough here for both of us. Tom fed some to a sick dog we had once. We won't suffer long."

Marian glanced warily at the easy way out. "I would rather face the sheriff in a room alone. Robin is alive. He will come after us and he will save us! I have faith in that. I would rather go through hell to see him again than die a quick death in the back of a wagon." She looked at the former outlaw. "Allan, you are not a coward. You are brave and good and someday you will see that. What Guy allowed Vaizey to do to you..."

"'E dinnit allow it."

Marian stopped. "But Guy said the sheriff gave him a choice."

"Dinnit matter to the sheriff. 'E wanted us both gone. Gis could watch, look away or participate as 'e did us both." Allan blinked back tears at the memory of the previous night of terror. "I talked Vaizey outta it. I reminded 'im how 'e dinnit really care for lepers anyway. How it would be more fun just to 'ave his way with me all night then finish me when 'e was done." Allan shivered at the memory. "So 'e did. 'E passed out before 'e could finish the job."

"Guy left out that part," she almost whispered.

"He was probably relieved to find you unharmed."

Marian studied the former outlaw for a moment. "Come here."

"I'm sorry."

"Put down those damn berries and come over here!" Marian gestured next to her. "You are my hero and neither of us is going to die today."

Allan brought over his blanket and covered both of them with it.

Marian wrapped her arms around the former outlaw as best she could. "You have repaid the debt you owed me in the castle a thousandfold, Allan."

"What you mean?"

"You have delivered me thus far with my honour intact. I will see to it that Robin knows that."

"Marian...Robin is..."

"No! He is not dead and he will save us." She whispered to Allan as she stroked his hair, "This I believe above anything else."

Allan smiled as he placed his head softly on her shoulder. He released the poison fruit from his hand and it fell away, lost in the coarse straw. "I would gladly take your place and keep you from harm any day, Maz."

"I know, Allan, and that is why I love you."

Before he could respond, the rear door of the carriage flung open, revealing the sheriff's maniacally grinning countenance. "Ahhhhh! You see Gisborne. I told you if we left your little pets alone together they would start breeding." He sneered at the former outlaw. "I thought I beat all of that out of you last night."

Guy stiffened at the comment but the frost never left his eyes. "Allan, move away from the prisoner."

"Gis, she innit a prisoner. She's..."

"I said, back away from the prisoner!" Gisborne guiltily turned away from the frightened accusing eyes on him. "We are about to board ship," he snapped. "Make yourselves ready."


	45. Under Your Skin

**Summary**: A shared act prompts Much to discuss a painful memory with Carter.

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter  
**Mentions:** Robin, Brooks (OC)  
**Rating:** PG-13 (For mention of slash)  
**Genre:** slash, angst  
**Disclaimer:** BBC & Tiger Aspect own; we just want to play in their universe.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Five: Under Your Skin**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"_Semper Fidelis_, I know what that means." Much smiled as he looked down at the young Saracen's handiwork. "I like it. 'Always faithful.'"

Carter mused, "Yes you are, my squire. It will be a reminder for both of us that whatever we do, where ever we go, that we will always be there for each other."

Much admired the image of the Celtic cross surrounded by lavender fronds on his upper arm. It would stay with him till the end of his days. "It's beautiful."

Carter looked at his own faded cross the artist had just added words and flowers to. "No knight should be without one in war." His eyes glistened. "It tells the priest that we are children of God and deserving of a good Christian burial. I hope we never need them."

Much sobered, "Charles deserved a good burial. He sacrificed his life for ours..."

"He made it. We have to believe that," Carter shushed. If anyone could survive, it was Yeoman Brooks. The knight smiled, "Besides, I have a feeling we will see him again."

~~~O~~~

Later as they cradled each other after an evening of delicious food, wine and passionate lovemaking, Much softly fingered the raw skin around Carter's tattoo. He sadly mouthed the letters as he traced each one and a single tear fell from his cheek causing his lover to stir.

"You're crying." Carter wiped at the wetness with his thumb and brought Much's face to his. "Why? Does your arm hurt?"

Much shook his head softly and sighed. "I just remembered something Robin told me once in anger. That I was a pox under his skin. He would scratch and scratch and never be rid of me."

Carter cradled his sad lover. "What a cruel and insensitive thing to say to you."

Much nodded against Carter's chest. "He was angry. Robin thought he'd lost Marian forever," he mused, looking up at the knight. "He's rid of me now. He should be glad." Much thought for a moment then broke the stillness again. "Carter?"

"Yes, Much?" the knight replied, as he stroked his lover's hair.

"Should I ever become a pox under your skin would you let me go?"

Carter held his lover at arm's length and showed him the fresh words on his own arm that would be a part of him till death. "You already are under my skin, love. Right where I want you to be." He fingered his squire's dimpled chin fondly. "Robin was a fool and he was wrong. You are not a pox but a blessing, Lord Much." Carter pulled the squire closer until their foreheads connected. He gazed into Much's sad questioning eyes. "The only touch I shall ever need to do is your lips on mine to quench my desire for you... _Semper Fidelis_?"

"_Semper Fidelis_," Much sighed. Their lips connected and bad memories were forgotten.


	46. Oxford Blues

**Summary**: The gang stop for the night at an Inn near Oxford. Their concerns manifest themselves through some troubling dreams... This chapter takes place immediately after 2x12.

**Characters/Pairings**: Legrand, Robin, Will/Djaq, Little John  
**Mentions:** Allan/Djaq, Guy/Marian, Much, Alice, Queen Eleanor, Carter/King Richard  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Angst, Het, Slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe  
**Notes**: Beta'ed by the lovely **RobinFanatic**.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Six: ****Oxford Blues**  
by  
**WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"Robin, we must stop!" Legrand called after him. "It's getting too dark to see the road and if one of the horses is lamed we'll never reach Portsmouth tomorrow. We're nearly to Oxford - there's bound to be an inn there we can get a couple of rooms in."

Robin pulled his horse up. His eyes gazed down the road reluctantly but he knew Legrand was right. "Fine - next inn we come to, we'll ask."

When they found one Robin quickly dismounted and went inside to see if there were any rooms free. Will made sure the long cloak he had given to Djaq was still sufficiently covering her to not draw any unwanted attention. John went a short way into the trees and came back with a thick branch which he carefully inspected and decided would make a decent staff. Will promised him he would be able to shape it properly on the boat and John, somewhat reluctantly, handed the larger crafted and studded weapon back to Legrand.

There were two rooms available and after stabling the horses and a short, unappetising meal including some very suspicious cheese, they headed up the inn's rickety stairs towards them. Though nothing was said somehow Will and Djaq found themselves standing awkwardly alone in the first room. In the other John and Legrand both looked at the too-small bed and agreed Robin should have it and they would sleep on the floor. The young noble was on the point of collapse anyway - the nervous energy that had been driving him all day had suddenly deserted him. Robin was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The bed was in the centre of the room and John waited for Legrand to decide which side of it he would sleep before moving to the other. He rolled his jacket under his head, pulled a blanket over himself and he too was asleep almost instantly.

As he heard John's breathing change to a deeper rhythm, Legrand opened his eyes again and looked across the floor under the bed at the older outlaw. These last few minutes of the day, when he could look at John as he truly wanted to without fear of being caught, were something he treasured. He fought the heaviness of his eyelids as long as possible before sleep claimed him as well.

Will and Djaq kicked off their footwear and lay stiffly side by side on top of the bed, neither willing to be the first to start getting undressed. The tension between them from the barn still hung thickly in the air. Djaq eventually leaned her head against Will's shoulder and he lifted his arm allowing her to put her head on his chest.

"Djaq...about what happened...Djaq?" he looked down. She'd already fallen asleep. He sighed and closed his eyes, soon joining her.

~~~O~~~

_Will was proud of their camp. Planning it and building it had been a huge undertaking but the end result had been well worth it. He was glad he had been able to show it to his father before he had lost him. It was no longer just a collection of carefully constructed timber frames and coverings - it was home. Not least because she __was there and now they could openly be together and not hide from their comrades as they'd been forced to do for so long.__  
__  
__He pulled on the lever to open the door and it smoothly swung up into the air with a soft breath of rustling leaves...and his heart turned to ice in his chest._

_His beautiful Saracen lover was standing in the middle of the camp,_ _wearing only the scraps of silk she had used to entice the mercenaries attention away from the barn in Nettlestone. She was leaning over with her hands against the side of his bunk.__  
__  
__Behind her with his black jacket casually unbuckled to show his smooth chest and his equally dark leggings pooled around his ankles, his former friend stood grinding against her like a rutting animal. His hands were cupping her small, perfect breasts and far from resisting the traitor she was actively pushing back at him. She moaned in ecstasy as he thrust firmly into her, whispering not the words of love that Will always spoke to her, but degrading, demeaning names and filthy descriptions of both what he was doing at that moment and what he planned to do later._  
_  
__And she was begging him for more. __He'd thought she was only his, so pure and chaste but she was everything Allan had said she was._  
_  
__He turned and ran from the camp with the sounds of their passion ringing in his ears..._

~~~O~~~

_Marian was lying on a simple cot in a whitewashed room. It looked like any room in many houses he'd seen in the Holy Land. He heard her crying softly and reached out for her, to comfort her, soothe her and protect her but his hands passed through her as if he were made of air.__  
__  
__She sat up suddenly as the door opened and Gisborne entered, filling __the room__ with his menacing presence. "Have you thought on my offer Marian? Hood is dead. Your only way to escape death at the Sheriff's hands is to let me take yours in marriage."__  
_  
_She bowed her head in resignation and nodded. "Yes, Guy, I will be your wife."__  
__  
__"No!__ Marian! I'm not dead!__" Robin hurled himself at Gisborne but seemed to run straight through him and collided instead with the wall. When he spun round the scene had changed and he was in his room__ in Locksley. _His _room - and Gisborne and Marian were in _his _bed.__  
__  
__He saw the same wedding dress she had worn on that fateful day in Locksley, only now it was dropped in a heap on the floor, starkly pale against a forbidding pile of black leather. __The fine linens on the bed moved in the gentle, undulating and unmistakable rhythm of two bodies in marital congress.__  
__  
__But her voice...it was her voice that broke his heart.__  
__  
__"Oh, Guy...yes...yes..."_  
_  
__He tried to reach them to stop this travesty but the hangings around the bed wrapped around him and he thrashed against the enfolding material, feeling it choking him, suffocating him. Despite being completely wrapped in the clinging cloth he could still clearly hear Marian give her most precious gift to the man who had almost killed her.__  
__  
__Then he felt the wrappings being lifted and Much was there. He was in their tent in the Holy Land and Much was looking at him with concern as he lifted the blankets away.__  
__  
__"Were you having a bad dream, Master?"__  
__  
__"Yes, I...I was dreaming I lost Marian."__  
__  
__"Oh." Much turned away and started folding the blankets. "Well I'm sure she's fine, Master."__  
__  
__"No, Gisborne has her and she probably thinks I'm dead. You probably think I'm dead too."__  
__  
__"I don't think that, Master."__  
__  
__"You don't?"__  
__  
__"No, I don't think anything. I'm already dead myself. You let me go back with Carter, remember?"__  
__  
__When Much turned back Robin could already see his sunken cheeks and the pallor of death on his skin.__  
__  
__"You let me go back to die, Master."__  
__  
__"No..." Robin scrambled backwards from the stench of decay as Much approached him.__  
__  
__"Why did you let me go, Master? I loved you."__  
__  
__"No!" Robin screamed as Much took his face in his hands - hands that were as cold as the grave... _**  
**

~~~O~~~

_John was standing in the doorway of his old house and Alice stood before him, young and beautiful, her hair a soft halo lit from behind by the warm fire. "Come back quickly, my love," she said to him.__  
__  
__"How could any man stay long from your side?" he replied as he took her in his arms and they kissed, then he turned and headed into the darkness.__  
__  
__When he glanced back to see her one last time the house was gone - he was alone in the woods, covered in another man's blood and the braying of hounds and hunters sounded close behind him. "Murderer! Find him! Hang him!" and he ran - ran till he felt his lungs would burst, ran through an endless forest night of dark trees with the dogs and a waiting noose always only one step behind and Alice lost to him forever..._

_He_ _ran and when he finally fell, as he'd known he must, he felt iron around his wrists, cold stone under his cheek and knew he would face the gallows in the morning. He looked up, half expecting to see Roy sitting opposite him, but it was a dream taking images from memory and not the memory itself so Roy was not there.__  
__  
__He turned at the soft voice.__  
__  
__"I want him."__  
__  
__"Are you sure, Milady?" It was Djaq's slave trader, not the Nottingham jailer who appeared. "We have several others__; younger, more handsome..."__  
__  
__He got up onto his knees and Queen Eleanor lifted his head and smiled down at him.__  
__  
__"No, __I want him."__  
__  
__John turned to the slave trader as he unlocked his manacles. When he turned back it wasn't the Queen who stood before him__ but Legrand__, naked to the waist.__  
__  
__"I want you, John."__ He joined John on his knees so they were facing each other barely a hands breadth apart. John__ knew this at least was definitely a dream because Legrand's long torso didn't have a mark on it. No sign of the arrows or blades that had pierced his skin while protecting his Queen and over many years of battle. He was perfect; smooth, muscled, flawless - a body that spoke of hard exercise and healthy living and all the privileges his noble birth had given him in life. And his smile...having it directed at him took John's breath away._

_He hesitantly ran his fingers over his new comrade's stomach, feeling the taut muscles rippling under them as Legrand softly laughed at his touch. John knew he __shouldn__'t be doing this, shouldn't be so __fascinated __by another man__ and yet he was...and he was.__  
__  
__He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was face down on a large bed and he could feel __Legrand__'s strong fingers skimming down his back. He shivered as he felt __Legrand_'_s body cover his, __the hardness pressing against him making Legrand's __intentions clear.__  
__  
__"I want you, John."__  
__  
__And it should have felt all wrong but it didn't. He should have been running from the room at this point, fighting back, something __- but instead he just lay there, enjoying __the feel of warm, soft skin against his own. __  
__  
__"John!"__  
__  
__He looked up and Alice was standing in the doorway, a look of utter revulsion on her face. She turned and ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.__  
__  
__"Alice! Wait, please!" He tried to get up but Legrand's solid weight pressed him back into the mattress.__  
__  
__"Let her go, John. She doesn't want you any more - I do."__  
__  
__"Alice..."__  
__  
__"Let her go..."_

~~~O~~~_**  
**_

_She loved to just watch his hands when he was working on something. He would get so engrossed in his task and his long fingers would constantly twist and turn the wood in his hands as if he could see the object he wanted inside the timber. He wasn't so much carving it as setting it free into what it had always wanted to be.__  
__  
__She had longed for so many nights for those hands to set her free into what she wanted to be. Now between them they were creating something far more beautiful than anything ever crafted.__  
_**  
**_"Will - I have some news."__  
__  
__He looked up instantly - his handsome, honest face giving her his full attention.__  
__  
__"What is it? You can tell me."__  
__  
__"I-I think I may be with child."__  
__  
__She may as well have told him it was she who held the sword that killed his father. His face drained of all colour. He leapt to his feet and backed nervously away from her.__  
__  
__"What? Are you sure? Maybe you're mistaken?" he stammered, frantically looking about as if it is a trap he can escape from. "And anyway it can't be mine! I'm...I'm not ready! It...It must be Allan's. It's Allan's, isn't it!" His shock swiftly turned to rage. "I knew it - knew you were his all along!"__  
__  
__"No, Will, my love - I swear, there has never been anything between Allan and I except friendship. You are my only love and the father of my child."__  
__  
__"No, you're lying - you have to be. I...I can't...I'm not..." he suddenly turned and fled, dropping his tools.__  
__  
__"Will!" She called after him but he ran off, heedless to her cries. "Will, come back! I need you! Will!"__  
_**  
**_"You're pregnant?"__  
_  
_She turned to face Robin who was looking at her with almost as much shock on his face as Will had had. John stood beside him with his fiercest look of disapproval.__  
__  
__"Djaq - you can't be part of the gang if you're pregnant. It's too dangerous - for you, the baby __and all of us! I'm sorry - you'll have to leave."_  
_  
__"W-What?"__  
__  
__"You'll be useless to us. We can't have a pregnant woman slowing us down. Sorry." He turned and walked back into the camp. John just shook his head and followed him.__  
__  
__The door swung closed behind them and Djaq ran to the wall frantically searching for the lever to re-open it but the wall was just smooth rock and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't find a way back in... _

~~~O~~~

_The "promised land"...He'd certainly thought so.__  
__  
__Away from the rules and regulations and stifling weight of tradition and expectation at court. Death, or more likely disease, may take you tomorrow so who took you tonight became both so much less and so much more important.__  
__  
__And now he found himself here, where he'd hardly dared hope he'd ever be again. __Th__e tent, the chests, the bed - all so familiar.__ No longer a wet field somewhere in France, sharing__ nights of passion __with __the young Duke as he vied for his father's throne. T__his was__ a different war, a different enemy, a different country - but__ the body beside his had changed very little in twenty years. He worshipped it still.__  
__  
__Legrand rolled over and slid his arm under Richard's neck. __Richard cupped his chin with one hand and Legrand __leaned over __and kissed him. He draped one long leg over Richard's then slid his arm around Richard's waist, pulling their bodies closer. For one blissful moment it was as if he had never been away.__  
__  
__"Do you love me, Legrand?"__  
__  
__"You know I do, Sire. With all my heart."__  
__  
__Richard reached up to his face and his thumb brushed against the scar across Legrand's cheek, a souvenir from their first days in the Holy Land. __"Such a pity. You used to be so handsome I could overlook the rest..." __He rolled away with a sigh __then __abruptly __stood up __and__ looked down imperiously at the new and vivid scars across Legrand's body.__ "__Get up."_

_Legrand swung his legs off the side of the bed and got to his feet, towering over Richard.__ Richard looked him up and down then shook his head._  
_  
__"No. There is just too much of you to love, __Legrand__." He signalled to the entrance and Legrand turned to see Carter. He was grinning like the cat that got the cream._  
_  
__Richard got back onto his bed and lay against the soft pillows. Carter joined him and Richard pulled Carter protectively towards him. The younger man laid his head on the monarch's broad chest and curled against him in a way Legrand knew he never__ could__.__  
__  
__"I think of all the men I have been close to, you are the most beautiful, Carter. So young, so...flexible," he growled. __  
__  
__Carter smiled and kissed him. "Thank you, Sire."__  
__  
__Richard looked up and seemed surprised that Legrand was still standing there. "I don't need you any more, Legrand. You may go."__  
__  
__"But, Your Majesty...I love you!"__  
__  
__"I know, I know. Make sure we're not disturbed, would you?"__ Richard casually dismissed him._  
_  
__Legrand bowed and backed out of the tent.__  
__  
__"You'll always be young to me." __  
__  
__Legrand turned from the blinding desert and found himself in a forest glade, softly dappled by sunlight. John stood in his shirt sleeves, arms folded, leaning against a large tree and smiling at him.__  
__  
__"Is growing old really so terrifying if you have someone to do it with? Richard clings to his youth through the pretty boys who share his bed but he's still alone. You've grown up. You need more."_  
_  
__"Is that __why I want you?"_  
_  
__"Not the only reason...__but partly."_  
_  
__"Then...why?"__  
__  
__John stepped forward with a grin and pushed Legrand backwards. He fell but there was no impact as he landed, he was just suddenly on his back on his bed in his old room at Poitiers. John was leaning over him, a knowing smile on his face and eyes full of dark intent.__  
__  
__"Because I can tame you...and you want that."_  
_  
__"What?" __He tried to get up but discovered he was unable to move, though he couldn't see any reason why.__ He gasped as John shoved his head to one side and bit hard at his neck and he couldn't do anything to stop him. It was terrifying.__  
__  
__It was wonderful._..

Legrand's eyes snapped open and he realised he was breathing hard into the cool night air. Somewhere above him he heard Robin fitfully tossing in his sleep and directly across the floor he could see John's face illuminated in the soft moonlight. John was frowning but as Legrand watched his face relaxed and he dropped into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

Legrand rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Sometimes he was glad of the dreams because they were all he had. Sometimes he hated them...


	47. I'll Carry You Home

**Summary**: A tragic tale told backwards. How will it end for our two lovers?

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, King Richard, Rahiim (OC)  
**Mentions:** Robin  
**Rating:** PG-13 (For mention of slash)  
**Genre:** Angst. hint of Slash  
**Disclaimer:** BBC & Tiger Aspect own; we just want to play in their universe.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Seven: I'll Carry You Home**  
by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

He stood over the lifeless body of the man who had come to mean everything to him in the short year they had been together. "You shouldn't be here. I should have left you with Robin in the forest. You would be safe now."

~~~O~~~

He remembered the last sound his love made as he watched him go. Even as he lay dying, Much was more concerned with the man before him than himself. The pitying look in his eyes seemed to say, "What will become of you now?"

Carter held his lover as the poison shut down his lungs and he gasped for air. There was no hope left, just comfort for the dying. "It's all right, my love, just let go," Carter calmly pleaded as he smoothed his squire's blond hair. Much looked up with sad pale blue eyes and Carter wished he could give up his own breath that Much should live. When the time came, he went softly, eyes focused on the man he loved, his last laboured breath leaving his body in a soft sigh. Carter cried out and clutched his lover in fury and anguish. He had never felt any pain like it before and never would again.

~~~O~~~

Tears. He remembered tears and the soft whimpering sounds that were all the poor man on the bed could make as the shadow of death overtook him. Carter had come to realize during Much's last hours what each sound was as the paralysis from the evil Turk's toxin robbed his squire of his most prized possession, his voice. "What is it, my love?" he said as he ran to his squire's side. "Oh it's all right," he smiled as he changed the wet bedding. "You can't help it. You will get better I promise you. The old healer has no idea." Moist blue eyes echoed his false hope. Deep down both men knew it was a lie and worse lay ahead.

~~~O~~~

Uncoordinated fingers scrawled across the slate. Carter mainly let him try because it gave him hope. Some of the words were even legible. Much would motion as best he could to get his master's attention when at last he finished what he wrote. Carter made out the word 'home' and 'please'. Carter frowned crossly at his patient. "I told you you're not going to die!"

Much glared at his lover and pointed as best as he could to the scrawl with his right hand having lost the use of his favoured left one the day before. Carter wished there was more the healer could do for his squire and the wait was becoming agonizing. At least the dreadful shakes and sweating was past. What seemed like a relief was actually a bad omen. As the healer said, the exotic poison that tainted the Saracen's dagger was shutting his lover's body down as it worked through his system.

Carter put on a brave face as Much pleaded silently. "For the last time you are not dying! But if that ever happens," he relented, "you know I will carry you home...on my back if I have to." He took the slate from Much's hand and eased his ailing lover back down on the cot. "Now please? No more of this. Rest."

~~~O~~~

The shivers had started again. Carter added more blankets, although he was already covered in a sheen of sweat. Much pressed harder against his lover for warmth. "I'm sssssssorry," he gravelled through partially paralysed vocal cords. "Sssssss-so cold."

"If it should keep death away I would place the coals in bed with us," Carter soothed as he held Much tighter. He hoped the healer was right, the poison would go no further and his squire would be able to sweat it out. His own comfort mattered little.

"I l-love you always, rrrrrremember that," Much said through clenched teeth as another wave of chills befell him.

"You will live to tell me that till we are old and grey, my love," Carter chided as he hugged the shivering man tighter. It would be the last time he would hear his lover's voice. By morning, all Much could manage was a whimper. Carter cried for the first time while his lover feverishly slept.

~~~O~~~

"No change?" the king asked as Carter went to the mess tent to pick up food.

"No change, Your Majesty," Carter replied. "He can hardly move and cannot eat anything more substantial than porridge. He can barely talk and I have to feed him." He lifted the spoon and let the watery gruel drip off of it. "Much hates porridge."

Richard grabbed his knight's arm as the young man's eyes misted. "He is strong, Carter. He will fight this."

"But what if he doesn't?" Carter gazed at the monarch.

"We could all die in our beds tonight if the Turk chooses," Richard replied. "I love him too, Carter, but we must keep it together."

"I have to go back to him." Carter looked down at the hand on his bicep then beggingly into Richard's blue eyes. "Pray for us."

"You know I will."

~~~O~~~

"How is our soldier today?" the King called out before entering the tent. Much struggled to raise up but his legs had failed him the day before.

Carter placed a hand on his squire's shoulder to steady him. "No need to rise. He understands, Much."

Much relented and lay back down in the bed. "Still breathing, Sire." He smiled as the regent took his hand.

"You are a brave soldier," Richard replied. "Rahiim will have you up and around in no time." He motioned jocularly at Carter, "Sorry to leave you with such an unattractive nursemaid."

Much rolled his eyes and whispered conspiratorially. "He is pretty to look at, Sire, but a little too fussy."

"See if I tuck your cold feet under the blanket again!" Carter snorted.

"What's the point. I can't feel them!" As soon as Much uttered the phrase, all three men sobered.

"Get better, Lord Much. I need a word with your master." The king led his knight out of the tent. "So the poison is progressing?"

"We found out he couldn't walk yesterday," Carter replied. "The healer said whatever was on that blade was just enough to assure a slow death unless he is strong enough to fight it." He leveled his eyes at the monarch. "Rahiim says the worst is yet to come, chills, convulsions then death. He said he has seen it before but the onset is usually much more rapid."

"Yes 'frozen death' they call it, because the victim is paralysed before dying. Do not worry. Much is strong and the wound he got was slight." The king placed his hand on Carter's shoulder. "He will recover."

~~~O~~~

The previous day's events left both men bruised, wounded and exhausted. Carter turned in the first light of morning. He wasn't too concerned when his squire failed to wake before him and draw the water to wash away the grit and sand that covered them as they slept. He nudged his lover as he rose to prepare himself. "Time to get up, Much...things to do."

"I'm awake," Much answered, the tone in his voice echoing the fear in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Carter asked as alarms rang in his head.

"It's nothing." Much tried to sound calm. "I'm sure it will pass."

"What will pass?"

The squire blinked back tears as he looked at Carter. "I tried to rise an hour ago, I can't move my legs."

Carter was dressed and at the entrance to the tent in seconds. "I'm going for the healer. Everything's going to be fine, Much."

The squire watched helplessly from the cot as his lover ran toward Rahiim's tent.

"I hope so," he sobbed.

~~~O~~~

"You are very lucky," the old Saracen lamented as he stitched the small wound on Much's chest closed with the fine thread. "You should be dead."

Much grimaced as he gripped Carter's arm feeling each deft stroke of the needle through injured flesh. "I don't feel lucky!"

The healer applied lavender oil to the sutured wound and bandaged it. "Come back in two days for me to check the wound or immediately if paralysis sets in."

"Paralysis?" Carter looked at the old man with widened eyes.

"That dagger, the one you brought that wounded him, it is tainted." Rahiim pointed to the green, tar-like substance that coated the curved blade. "'Frozen death.' He is lucky. I washed out the wound as well as I could. That he is not dead already is good." The healer pointed at Carter. "You watch him, any change, you come, you pray to your God."

Much's pale face and large eyes betrayed his fear as Carter reassured him. "You'll be fine. Rahiim's just being cautious."

"But if I die?"

"You won't die."

"Carter...promise."

The knight sighed and uttered the line he had rehearsed every time his panicked manservant got like this. "Yes, Much. Should anything befall you I won't let the desert take you. I will carry you back to England...on my back if I have to." He smiled and touched his forehead to his lover's. "I'll carry you home."

~~~O~~~

Blood, drums and the ever present heat overwhelmed them as they were caught up in battle. Too many men and it was hard to see who was friend and who was foe. Much found himself constantly at war with protecting his master and protecting himself. It was too late when he saw the dagger swing toward him. Reflexes honed by years of battle and muscle memory took over and he curved his body away from the blade as it swung down. He almost laughed out loud as it sliced through his shirt then skin. He could tell the wound wasn't deep and his assailant failed in his task. He was sure he would live to fight another day but his attacker would not. Much deftly thrust his sword into the Saracen's abdomen, making blood shoot out of his enemy's mouth as the warrior's entrails were pierced. "You missed!" He cried out victoriously.

The Saracen grinned with his dying breath. In Arabic, he spat at his murderer, "I didn't miss. You will follow me in death soon enough, infidel!"

"What did he say?" Much asked Carter as he looked down at the flesh wound he received. "Oh...my best tunic too."

Carter paused, frowning at the dead man. "He said 'you will follow him in death'." He picked up the evil looking blade and gazed at the sap covered edge. "We need to get you to Rahiim and have you looked at."

"It's just a flesh wound, Carter," Much tutted as he looked again at the wound then down at the dead Saracen. "I received worse in Sherwood cleaning squirrels for dinner."

"Ugh squirrel," Carter groaned. "What you outlaws were forced to eat." He grabbed his squire's arm and pulled him over the corpse. "Humour me, lets go see the healer."

Much shrugged, "Well... all right but I'll be fine. You'll see."

~~~O~~~

A noise at the tent entrance stirred him from his memories. He looked down at Much's still form then up as King Richard joined him.

"He was a fine young man, Carter, and a good knight."

"He was more than that to me and you know it, Sire." Carter glared through tear-reddened eyes.

"I do." Richard smiled. He tried best he could to console his knight. "You have to let him go now, it's been two days. The healers are worried he will cause a pestilence if he is allowed to be unburied or unburned for much longer."

"I won't let you cremate him!" Carter spat. "Better the desert take him!" He affectionately stroked the cold cheek of his dead lover. "He wanted me to take him home."

"To England." Richard shook his head. "If only we could. We can cremate him and send his ashes back to be scattered."

"No cremation!" Carter's eyes glared with fury. "He wanted to let the sweet soil of his own country take him. He told me so."

"Wouldn't we all." The king reasoned, "We'll let the desert take him first. He will not decay. I've seen what the sand does to the dead. Much will be dry as leather in a month." Richard looked at the distraught soldier. "It's the best we can do for him now. When the time comes, we will disinter him and you can take him with you when you go home."

"Without him I have no home," Carter lamented. "If my time comes here, Your Majesty, make sure I lie beside him in death as I did in life. Let the desert take us both."

"I will see to it, Lord Carter." Richard gripped the young knight's shoulders then held him as he wept.

Before Richard could summon the men to retrieve the body, Carter stopped him. "One last goodbye...please," he looked at the men waiting outside the tent. "With no one else present."

The king nodded solemnly as he gestured for the two men who were about to enter to turn back out of the tent.

Carter leaned over his lover one last time. "I'll carry you home, Much, back to England." He kissed the still lips, then paused.

"Carter..." the king interrupted, losing patience with the young man.

"Do the dead weep?" the knight said as he touched the corner of his squire's eye in fascination.

"Carter, enough of this foolishness..."

The knight quickly grabbed a small silver tray and held it under the corpse's nose. He waited, his own breath failing him. Slowly, condensation formed. "He breathes!"

King Richard wasted no time, running himself, to get the healer.

~~~O~~~

The crumb of bread sailed past Carter's ear as he ate.

"I'm bored!" Much huffed as he lay propped up on the cot.

Carter retrieved the morsel and tossed it back at his impatient squire. "For someone who was dead two days ago, you certainly have rallied. Now behave and rest as Rahiim ordered."

"And for someone who mourned me two days ago, you have a horrible bedside manner," the former outlaw tutted back.

Carter came over and checked his lover's arm. "You can throw again, that's a good sign."

"I'm still a little numb but the feeling is returning," Much said as he wiggled his fingers. He grabbed his unsuspecting master and pulled him into bed next to him.

"Much, this isn't resting!" Carter protested as his lips reluctantly met those of his patient.

"We are in bed are we not, Master?" Much nodded.

Carter relented with a sigh as his tongue swept over his lover's. He then shot bolt upright. "Oh!"

"Oh?" Much repeated.

"I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" Much echoed again.

Carter fumbled in his pack and retrieved a neatly wrapped parcel. He smiled as he handed it to his questioning squire.

Much excitedly unwrapped the gift and grinned as he opened the paper. "A new tunic. For a moment there I thought it was just more..." He stopped as Carter presented him with a large dried bundle of their favourite flower.

"Happy first anniversary, my love." Carter grinned.

"It is indeed," Much whispered through tears as their lips met.


	48. The Four Stages, Part Two

**Summary**: On the road to Portsmouth, the gang picks up the sheriff's trail. Set between episodes 2x12 and 2x13.

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Legrand, Little John, Will/Djaq, Guy, Vaizey, Allan, Marian  
**Mentions:** Much  
**Rating:** PG-13 (Descriptions of violence)  
**Genre:** Angst, Slash, Het  
**Disclaimer:** BBC & Tiger Aspect own; we just want to play in their universe.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Eight: The Four Stages, Part 2****  
**by **  
****DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Anger 

The long journey should have tired him but Robin felt nothing. Only thoughts of her alone with his enemies filled his mind. Thoughts of vengeance if she came to harm possessed him. When the others stopped to break camp he kept going; only the hand grasping his shoulder stirred him from his dark plans.

"Robin, we rest, now." He bluntly nodded at John as the large man steered their horses back to the others. He didn't want to stop - not till she was in his arms again safe and the traitors who held her were dead.

Food had no flavour as he chewed nor the wine any taste. The bitterness of what was gone filled him as he watched the others walking around him. Djaq and Will were packing supplies to scout ahead to the town for word of their quarry. Legrand and John pitched what shelter they could and set up camp. Robin was alone in his own mind and liked it that way. No one dared try to reason or change his mind. They followed him in his mission and it was all he asked.

"I'm going to get wood," John nodded at Legrand. "You coming?"

Ordinarily the Frenchman would have jumped at the chance to have time alone with his friend but not tonight. He knew that look. He watched Robin's eyes and he saw the darkness behind them. He nodded at John, 'I'll stay here, mon ami, in case he needs to talk to someone."

John nodded and disappeared into the trees.

"I don't want to talk, Legrand."

"We need a plan..."

"I have a plan!" Robin looked crossly into the fire as he folded his hands in front of his face, "Half a plan."

"What these men are willing to do! We cannot go after them alone. We need to involve others sympathetic to our cause."

"And who would that be?" Robin spat. "Who do we know who is truly loyal to our king besides us?" Robin shook his head. "Even in my own camp I had a spy turned by Gisborne."

"Allan?"

Robin nodded, "I cannot even fully trust my own men because of him." He looked away. "There was one man I knew I could trust. I let him go back to the Holy Land like a fool. I wish he was here with me now."

"Your manservant, Mooch?"

"Much," Robin smiled. "His name is...was Much. At least I was able to give him his freedom before he died."

"You don't know that he is dead now."

"I've seen his ghost too many times to think otherwise, Legrand. I hoped to see him under better circumstances one day but now I will mourn for him and Marian."

"No. You must stop this thinking now, Robin!" Legrand grabbed the other man's arm. "Marian is alive and so is Much. You must believe that. You must have faith."

"You seem so sure." Robin shook his head, "I don't have that luxury, my friend."

"Yes you do." Legrand stretched out his arms. "It is all around you and yet you miss it - like not seeing the forest for the trees. These people that follow you unquestioningly - they are your strength. They are your faith. I know this because they are now mine as well. Djaq, Will and John, they became my hope when I had none and my strength when I was weak." Legrand grinned as he captured the frowning leader in the surprising crush of a bear hug. "Because of you...all of you... I live."

"We will find her, Robin." John spoke from behind them suddenly. "We will save Marian and then we will see Vaizey and Gisborne hang." John's eyes widened at the changing color of his leaders face. He tapped Legrand on the shoulder. "You can release him now."

~~~O~~~

Denial

Djaq walked several paces behind her lover. The stolen clothes she now wore covered the skimpy outfit she narrowly escaped with her life in. Will was still distant to her and she knew it was because of what she did to help them escape. She hadn't bothered to think of anything to sooth his feelings. There was no time for intimate chat among the others but she would catch his eye as they rode and she saw the doubt behind them. She felt better once covered and the other outlaws hungry eyes stopped staring. She trusted them with her honour but they were men and she had once again visibly proven she was not. Another bout of nausea overtook her as she swooned against a tree and one more secret was making itself known.

She knew what it was in the back of her mind when she felt the first waves overtake her. If worst came to worst she knew what herbs to take to make it go away. She had administered them before to poor frightened women as a healer, but this was different, it was hers and she wanted it. Still the dreams came. Dreams of days in a cottage with Will where she would tend lovingly to their strong son. Then the nightmares took over. _His_ face staring over her ripped open belly grinning a gap tooth grin. _"Aww...the leper doesn't like her baby?"_ The countenance of the sheriff would leer from an impossible infant face. She would wake trying to kick the monstrosity away and snuggle into Will from terror as he slept next to her.

Morning brought the doubts and nausea. At first she blamed it on bad food, fever, anything but what she knew was true. She was going to be a mother, Allah be praised. Life quickened in her womb but she was also outlawed. There was no room for new life in the woods. One of Robin Hood's men could never have a baby in tow.

She looked down as the dizziness passed and found the plant. She looked at her lover as she held it. Belladonna, nightshade, devil's cherry. One dose would do it. She turned the innocent-looking herb in her hand. She jerked reflexively at the sound of his voice.

"What is that?" Will asked under upturned brows as he stopped and turned to her.

"It's...it's just a new herb...I was thinking of collecting for our medicine kit," Djaq replied.

"Oh, think we may need that?" the woodsman questioned with a kind smile. His green eyes sparkled and she imagined her son...their son, with those eyes.

Djaq dropped the plant and crushed it under her heel. She smiled at her lover. "No, no we don't."

Will shook his head and mumbled to himself about women, as he headed down the trail to the inn.

Djaq looked at the crushed plant then at her abdomen. "Praise Allah, I am glad." She smiled and rushed to catch up taking his hand in hers.

~~~O~~~

"Beat the lad like a stray dog, I tells ya," the old man prattled on. "I 'eard the expression 'tore 'im a new one' but ne'er sawed it put to practice before." The curmudgeon laughed at his own sick joke.

"Tell him to shut up, Will," Djaq's liquid eyes begged. "Please...make him stop."

"Oi! There's a lady present!" the carpenter scolded the healer.

The old man frowned at the stranger, then leaned in to the other men around him. "The dark one said 'e did it fallin' offa horse but if you ask me I think it was that little noble theys be travelin' with. Dinnit like the sights of 'em. I think 'e did summit to that boy."

"You shouldn't speak against nobles like that, Clarence," the barkeep warned. "Your suspicion will nigh send us all to the gallows."

"I sawed what I sawed," the older man went on. "'Ad to patch the poor lad up meself. What kinda noble does that to his servant? Poor boy he kept calling for his friends, said 'e did it for her."

"Enough, Clarence!" the barkeep hissed as he looked around at the other patrons.

"Will?" the Saracen woman cried.

"It can't be him! He isn't talking about Allan," the carpenter reasoned, wide eyed. "Allan would never let anyone...we have to go. We have to find Robin."

They made their way out of the tavern as the old men prattled on, not noticing.

~~~O~~~

Fear

It was a strange sight that met Gisborne's eyes. He didn't know what to expect when he was summoned to the captain's table on the ship but Vaizey making obscene noises with his head under a large napkin wasn't anywhere near the scope he anticipated.

"You summoned me?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," came the muffled sound. The sheriff gestured to the other chair with his hand. And Guy did as told.

"Everything is on course. We'll land in Le Havre by morning, then journey overland and arrive in Marseilles by..." He was interrupted by soft crunching under the napkin followed by more soft moans of pleasure. "I cannot very well have a conversation with you, my lord if you are..." He hastily snatched the napkin from over Vaizey's face and wished he hadn't.

The sheriff had a look of utter dismay on his face but even more disturbing was the small roasted bird hanging head-first out of his mouth. Juices ran down his chin and he quickly snatched the napkin from his master-at-arm's hand and recovered his face. More grinding and chewing sounded, then he withdrew the napkin and took a hearty sip of wine before looking back at Gisborne. "Do you know why one covers his head when eating ortolans, Gisborne?"

Guy shook his head in barely hidden disgust.

"Ahh! You see..." the sheriff said, wiping his mouth and dipping a hunk of bread in the juices on his plate. "You see some would say it is to hide the obvious vulgarity of one eating a small bird whole. Those would be the people with weak stomachs who can't stand the ugliness that surrounds them in their lives." He poured more wine from the flask in front of him and swirled it in the chalice studying the face of the man in front of him twisted in distaste. "Others would say it is to hide their sin of extravagance from God."

Vaizey got up from his place at the table and walked around the room. "Those people are the ones who hide behind the pompousness of religion. They try to hide the sin in their own lives by pointing at the sinfulness of others. Then there are the chosen few." He smiled wickedly and caressed the cage that held the living versions of his meal as they delicately sang. "Those who know that if you are going to take a sweet innocent bird, fatten it up by forcing it to eat, then drown it in Armagnac, the least you can do is savour every bite and aroma by covering your head." By this time he had made his way disturbingly close to Gisborne, too close for the knight's comfort. Guy tried to lean away from the repulsive man but before he could, a sharp pain shot through his hand.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He looked down in horror to find that the sheriff had impaled his hand with a fork.

'So why are you covering your head, Gizzy?" Vaizey hissed, delighted at the other man's misery. "Is it to hide the vulgarity?" He twisted the fork into the other man's hand.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!" Guy grimaced. "Please...please...stop!"

"Loving both a leper and 'your boy'. Awww, the look on his face when he realized you were sacrificing him to save your precious little Lady Fitzwalter..." He turned the handle on the utensil again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Vaizey turned his eyes as if contemplating, "Or is it to hide your sin? Oh yes, the sin! Lust..." He turned the fork again eliciting an agonized scream from the dark knight. "Sodomy? Fornication? But for which one would you sin the worst, the boy or the leper?" He twisted again and with his free hand he grabbed the other man's hair. "I think you want to savour the sweet taste of the delicious bird as you crush it between your teeth. You want them both but you are afraid that showing them your feelings will consume you so you hide your greed! You are no better than I am Gisborne!" Vaizey leered. "Just hide your head and chew! Shut up and sink your teeth into it!" He grabbed the other man's cheek with his hand. "Don't worry about the bird, Gisborne. Another one will come along to sing for you and you will have the money to enjoy it more!" He retrieved the fork, making the dark knight snatch away his injured hand and clutch it to his chest.

Guy glared at the noble and it took every effort not to dispatch the horrible man right there. Vaizey still held a handful of his hair and tugged it firmly to let the other man know who was in control. "We are going to the Holy Land to kill the King and I will not have your little pets take that from me!" He calmed down then leaned back in. "So I need you to decide. We have too much dead weight with us and one of them needs to go."

Guy nodded furiously, anything to stop the madman from hurting him further. "I will handle it."

Vaizey wiped his mouth and tossed the used napkin in front of the knight. He tucked Gisborne's napkin into his jerkin and removed the cover from the plate in front of him. Guy grimaced at the small roasted whole bird. The sheriff sneered, "You had better, Gisborne, or that will not be the only thing around here that gets drowned and roasted!" He turned and smiled evilly before leaving the room. "Eat your ortolan before it gets cold."

~~~O~~~

Marian woke to the sound of the heavy door closing. Allan stirred softly next to her, a fine sheen of sweat covered his face.

"How is he?" Guy asked with genuine worry as he held his hand to the former outlaw's forehead.

"He's sleeping." Marian looked up at him and noticed the bloody bandage with guarded interest. "Your hand..."

"I injured it while eating," Gisborne looked away.

Marian accepted the excuse as she did their current situation. "What have you gotten us into, Guy?"

Gisborne's eyes turned from icy to cold flame. "What have _I_ gotten us into?" He glared, "_I_ did not make an attempt on the sheriff's life. _I_ did not try to take on the most powerful man in Nottingham single-handed!" He softened. "You should have minded your own business, Marian. You would have not known the wiser. I would have returned with money and power, we would have a new king, one who is more sympathetic to our cause and I could have given you the life you deserve." He touched her cheek and she pulled away. "Now all that is jeopardized and I don't know if I can protect you...either of you...any more."

"Gis?"

"How are you, Allan?"

The young man clutched his stomach. "Not bein' funny, but it hurts. It really hurts."

"I brought you more ginger root."

Allan raised his head and took a sip from the offered cup. He reeled at the motion of the ship on the waves. "I never been over water before. Is this how it makes ya feel?"

Guy smirked. "Sometimes it does. When you get well enough, I will take you topside so you can see the ocean." Guy showed unusual concern as he stroked the younger man's hair.

Allan shook his head. "I won't leave Marian. I'll stay down here with her. Keep her safe...from him."

"As you wish, Allan." Guy turned and regarded them both. "Stay out of his way. Let him have what he wants and I will get us out of this."

"And when he gets what he wants what is to stop him from wanting more?" Marian replied defiantly. "Who's next after the King?"

Gisborne repeated as he shut the door, "Stay out of his way, Marian. I will do what I can to keep you safe."

~~~O~~~

Acceptance

Djaq was still in tears as Will led her back to camp.

"What did you find out?" Robin looked up expectantly. John had long passed out against Legrand's shoulder as the two men snored softly under the tree.

"They were there." Will nodded solemnly. "We overheard a healer talking in the tavern. Apparently Allan was injured."

Robin frowned but was otherwise uninterested in the traitor's plight. "Marian?"

"She was still with them." Will nodded, "According to the stable boy, they chained her like an animal, but otherwise she seemed well." He shook his head. "I know Allan is a traitor and a liar, but to go along with a plot to kill the king..."

"Maybe he didn't." Djaq pulled away. "That man thought the sheriff beat him, or worse. Allan might be in just as much trouble as Marian."

"And if he is, he must lie in it," Robin spat back to the stunned Saracen. "He chose his allies. Let him hang beside them." He turned back to Will. "Any word on where they were headed?"

"They boarded a boat bound for Le Havre."

"Then so will we, at first light." Robin turned and as he did so Djaq grabbed his arm.

"He is a good man, Robin. Allan..."

"I've seen good men turned way too often, Djaq." Robin studied her sad eyes. "When I find them I will give him the same chance to redeem himself as the others. At the end of my sword."


	49. A Question of Doubt

**Summary**: A series of vignettes during Team Leather's voyage on the boat to the Holy Land... Set between 2x12 and 2x13

**Characters/Pairings**: Guy/Marian, Sheriff Vaizey, Allan/Guy**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre**: Angst, Hint of Slash**  
Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Nine: A Question of Doubt**  
by**  
WastingYourGum**

-----------------

"Don't you trust me?"

Her delicate hands hold up the ugly iron chain as if it's a bracelet of the finest silver and he realises with a shock just how strong those seemingly fragile feminine fingers actually are.

These are the hands of the Nightwatchman - archer and sword fighter - and yet every time he looked at them, imagining them tracing across his skin, he saw only beauty and softness, the hands of a lover and a wife.

"How can I? Though I would prefer not to see you chained like an animal - that is the Sheriff's orders. I swear should anything happen I will release you immediately. If the boat goes down you will not be anchored to it."

He sees her face pale slightly. That thought had obviously not even occurred to her.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Allan promised to bring me something when he returns."

"Good."

"Can you not let me out of here? Just for an hour, Guy, that's all I ask. I haven't seen the sky in weeks."

"We'll land in Cyprus soon. You will have a chance to walk on dry land again."

"I shall look forward to that. I cannot imagine the life these sailors must endure."

"They grow used to the ground under them constantly shifting. They adapt to living off balance. After a while it is the steadiness of dry land that they find difficult."

She decides to shift the ground under his feet a little. "Guy, what are you not telling me?"

"Not telling you?"

"Allan swore he would protect me from the Sheriff--"

"He's not been down here...he's not harmed you--" Now it is his face that drains of colour.

"No, no, not that but I'm worried for Allan. When you are here with me what is to prevent the Sheriff from going after him?"

He's grateful for the long years of keeping his expression carefully neutral. Would she be as concerned about him knowing what he has endured for her - and for him - since they'd left Portsmouth? "Allan is fine. I told you both I would protect you - though I'm not certain I can protect Allan from himself."

She looks puzzled by his cryptic reply but before she has a chance to respond, a sinister voice calls out.

"Gisborne?" Heavy footfalls pound down the stairs into the hold. "Ah, Gisborne, there you are. Visiting your little leper friend again?"

"My Lord." The neutral expression never flickers for an instant despite a sudden fervent desire for that first step to have been missed. A 'tragic' accident would solve so many problems... or an illness - he notes the grey pallor, the halting, hesitant movements. "Are you well, my Lord?"

"Never better, dear boy...Oh my dear Marian, you must learn not to scowl. Your face will be lined with wrinkles before we land in Acre and we cannot have you looking like an _old_ leper, now can we? That would be such a shame." He idly plays with a strand of her hair and she tugs away from him in disgust.

"Of course," he continues, "the sun is much stronger in Palestine. It can burn and dry your pretty little skin so it feels and looks like tough leather. Gisborne and your weasel friend Allan won't find you so attractive then, will they? Though that won't be our problem for long. Where is that boy anyway? I don't think I've seen him since we left Messina."

"He's been eaves-dropping on the crew, my Lord. I thought it may be useful."

"Hmm, perhaps. Is our little hell-cat still safely secured?"

She holds up the chain, demonstrating with a sneer what she thinks of being chained like an animal yet again.

"Good," he purrs and holds out his hand for the key. There is a brief awkward silence.

"What's the matter, Gisborne? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, my Lord." He hands the key over without so much as a glance back as they both head for the stairs.

"Excellent. My cabin, five minutes."

~~~O~~~

"Don't you trust me?"

The hard fingers feel like a hawk's talons digging into his shoulders. He's steeled himself over many years not to flinch when the older man touches him so intimately but deep down it still makes his skin crawl.

"Of course I trust you, Gisborne. Would you be here and still breathing if I didn't? No - I just feel I should have the key for Lady Marian to save you from any... temptation. I still have my doubts about that boy of yours, though."

"He can be trusted too, my Lord. If he was going to leave he'd have done so before we left England."

A snort. "He could barely walk - he wasn't going anywhere you didn't carry him. Still, he didn't attempt to jump ship in Messina and he's looking a lot better these days..."

"My Lord, I still think it would be _unwise _to do anything to him on board ship. He's made several friends amongst the crew and we have nowhere to go should they turn on us."

"Perhaps you're right. I can wait until we reach Acre for any more..._fun_."

Internally he sighs in relief but to the man standing behind him he may as well be made of stone. "Will there be anything else, my Lord?"

"No, not tonight." The clinging grip is mercifully released. "God knows what was in that stew - couldn't tell when I saw it the first _or_ the second time... I'll see you tomorrow morning, Gisborne."

"Yes, My Lord." Only when the door closes behind him does he finally let go the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding.

~~~O~~~

"Don't you trust me?"

His long, slender fingers dance around the cups, caressing each with the gentlest of touches.

"Look, I swear - you keep your eye on it, you'll spot it every time. And be fair - I'm not usually doin' this on a table that's swingin' back and forth like a merchant's wife's backside on an 'orse! That's got to make your chances even better, eh?"

The scowling sailor puts down his coin and points to the cup on the left. The ball that wasn't there a moment before suddenly is as the cup is raised.

"Aw - y'see? I dunno why I bother. Bunch of sharp-eyed gents like you, I'm bound to lose... Still - double or quits?"

He's still got it. He'd 'acquired' the cups in Marseilles more for the sake of having something to do and some familiar part of his old life back than any real intention to use them. He'd gone through the well-rehearsed patter in his room alone, satisfying himself that his hands no longer shook like they had at the beginning of the journey two months ago. Once he knew he could still do it the temptation to convert the muscle memory to money had eventually proved too much.

Besides, the crew's quarters were the only place he thought he may be safe while Gisborne was with Marian. If the Sheriff was thwarted in his intentions towards her, he knew where he'd look to next - so really being in company was just good sense and if he wanted to make a few coins at the same time - where's the harm?

He lets them win just enough to keep them interested and after only a very short while a small crowd has gathered. The jokes and banter all come flooding back and he's almost starting to enjoy himself and forget his other cares. This is the bit he's good at, keeping them off balance and their attention misdirected when the odds 'miraculously' turn in his favour and the flow of money subtly tips towards him.

"Haven't you gotten into enough trouble with this game?" His Master's voice. The sailors look up muttering sullenly as their fun is spoiled by the nobleman's interruption, not knowing he's saved them all several hard-earned pennies.

"C'mon, Gis - it's just a bit of harmless fun... Right, lads?"

He gasps as the leather-covered fist grabs the front of his shirt and he is hauled bodily out of the room and slammed back against an upright beam by the stairs leading to the deck.

"You're not in an Inn with a handy back door and a besotted serving wench to hold it open for you! If just one of those men suspected you, you'd be over the side with a very long swim home, you idiot!"

"Yeah, but I'm bored... 'Ere - shouldn't you be with Marian?"

"The Sheriff's dinner disagreed with him - there's no risk of him bothering her tonight. I'm sure he would be happy to find something to alleviate your _boredom_ tomorrow though..." The sudden sickness in his stomach has nothing to do with either his food or the ship's motion. "Or maybe you'd prefer that _I_ gave you something to do tonight?" A lick of the lips, a gleam in the eyes, an invitation.

There is a significant pause.

"What's the matter, Allan? Don't you trust me?" That damned smirk that he can't resist.

"Of course I trust you, Gis - I'm your boy."

"Good. My cabin, five minutes."


	50. Mist Opportunities

**Summary**: The outlaws boat gets stuck in fog after leaving Marseilles, leaving time for some conversation and for John to find out a little more about the Gang's newest member... Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13.

**Characters/Pairings**: Little John, Djaq, Legrand  
**Mentions:** Will, Robin, Queen Eleanor, Little Little John, King Richard, Guy  
**Rating**: PG (for language and teensy hint of implied slash)  
**Genre**: General  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty: Mist Opportunities  
**by**  
WastingYourGum**

-----------------

On the third day out from Marseilles, the world vanished.

A heavy blanket of fog descended on the ocean, meaning that from the bow of the boat the stern was barely visible, never mind any glimpse of shore. John woke and rushed for the deck, anxious for fresh air and a horizon. He found only muffled damp whiteness and his face turned the same colour as the clouds of moisture surrounding them. The ship's crew and passengers could have been the only people left alive on God's earth.

Djaq emerged from below decks, yawning and looking surprised at the change in weather. Legrand came up shortly behind her, scratching the stubble on his chin.

Djaq noticed the colour of John's face and quickly moved to reassure him. "It's just mist, John. It will clear and we will see land again soon. It is entirely normal for this time of year." He nodded but she could see the unease in his eyes.

John jumped as he felt Legrand's hand on his shoulder. "Are you feeling well, John? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"There are ghosts at sea?" John's knuckles tightened around the rail.

"Oh yes," Legrand said as he looked around the boat and out into the mist. "The sailors talk of ships crewed by dead men, damned to sail for eternity and hunt down unsuspecting voyagers to join their never-ending journey." He sounded quite cheerful about the whole prospect but his grin faded as he looked at John's face. "It's just a story, John."

"Right." John didn't sound convinced.

"There's no dead man's ship and we're not going to sail off the edge of the world," Legrand said, firmly.

"What?!"

"Well the edge of the world is West - we're heading East," Legrand replied.

"How do you know? You can't even see the Sun!" John wailed.

Djaq put her small hand over John's much larger one and soothingly stroked it. "It will be fine, John," she reassured him. "The fog will lift and then we'll see land again. We just need to wait it out." She scowled at Legrand who just shrugged.

"I hate waiting - I'm never waiting for anything good," John growled. He snatched his hand away and stomped off back down below...

~~~O~~~

Legrand assumed John had gone to get some breakfast so was surprised not to see him in the galley. He eventually found him in the forward hold, sitting on a pile of sacks of grain with his head between his knees. His face was still very pale.

"Not hungry?" Legrand asked.

"No."

Legrand nodded and sat down on top of a barrel a short way away.

"Go away, Legrand."

"I'm comfortable here."

John scowled up at him from under thick eyebrows. "What do you want?"

"I thought we might talk, since we have nothing else to do," Legrand suggested.

John made a disgusted noise and looked back at the floor.

"I already know Robin quite well and I've talked many times with William and Safiyya..."

"She's called Djaq."

"You're right - she did request that I call her by her brother's name. It just still seems strange to do so and I keep forgetting. I've known people in the Holy Land called both Djaq and Safiyya and she is _definitely _a Safiyya."

"Not when she fights."

Legrand smiled at the pride in John's voice for his friend. "No, when she fights she is as good as any man I have seen and better than most. She is also an excellent physician - that young carpenter is a fortunate man."

"Yes, well, she's lucky to have him too - Will's a fine boy."

"He has great strength of character for one so young - I think he's learned some of that from you."

John raised his head and his eyes narrowed. Legrand smiled, trying to reassure John that he was being sincere. "He had that already from his father along with his carpentry," John said. "Dan Scarlett was a good man. I haven't taught Will anything beyond some basic woodcraft and tracking."

Legrand shrugged, "If you say so, John. I think Will would disagree with you though."

John snorted and lowered his head again. There was a long silence before he spoke. "I suppose you think I'm just an ignorant peasant - frightened of fog and sea monsters."

"There's no shame in being either ignorant or a peasant, John. The only shame is in not striving to better yourself, either by education or hard work. Besides, ignorant is not the same as stupid and not knowing is not the same as not wanting to know. You have a keen mind and know a great many things on subjects I know nothing of."

"Like mushrooms," John said, with emphasis.

Legrand sighed. "Yes, John, like mushrooms. But I have learned of England's plants from you as you are learning your letters from Robin. Not _staying _ignorant is the important thing. When we land you will no longer be ignorant of sea travel and it will hold fewer fears for you."

He moved over and squatted down next to John. John looked up sharply when he heard Legrand's voice much closer to him, though quieter.

"When I was eighteen, Queen Eleanor moved her court from London to Argentan before she returned to Aquitaine and separated from King Henry. My mother sent me by boat from Bordeaux to Dover to meet her and join her service. The weather was not kind and I was certain we were going to sink beneath the waves despite the sailors assuring me it was a very mild storm. When we landed at Dover I did not have one clean pair of breeches and it took me a week to get the smell out of my armour..." He looked sheepishly at John who burst out laughing, obviously amused at the thought of a teenage Legrand soiling himself. Legrand pretended to look aggrieved. "It's not funny, John! I almost stayed in England rather than making the return journey!"

Legrand sat down beside him and waited until John's laughter faded. "Tell me about your son."

John's face instantly lost most of its good humour. "There isn't anything to tell. I barely know him."

"Then tell me what you do know. What is his name? Does he look like you?"

"He's called John, after me, but in looks he's more like his mother so I suppose he can be grateful for that at least."

"You do yourself a disservice, John. Queen Eleanor is a woman of great taste - she would not have taken a fancy to a man she did not find physically attractive."

"You neither, I suppose."

Legrand smiled when he saw John also had a smirk on his lips. "No, John, I think you're hideous. I'm merely feigning interest in you to keep you away from the Queen on King Richard's orders. He told me that if his mother should fall for a scruffy English outlaw it was my duty to sacrifice myself, no matter how ugly, ignorant and repulsive that peasant may be."

John laughed and shook his head. "You're _really _not winning me over here, Legrand."

"No? I thought I was being quite flattering..." he shrugged. "It's Guillaume, by the way."

"Ghee-om? What is?" John asked.

"My name. Guillaume Legrand of Châtellerault."

"Guillaume."

"Yes, it's the same as William."

"So you're called Will as well? Or is it Bill? Or Billy?" John grinned.

"I am called 'Guillaume' by my close friends and 'Legrand' by my colleagues. You, peasant, can call me 'My Lord'," Legrand said haughtily.

"How about 'stuck-up French braggart'?" John suggested, with a raised eyebrow.

Legrand laughed. "That fits too!"

"So where is... Shah-tell-er-o?" John took his best stab at pronouncing Legrand's home town.

"Châtellerault. It's just north of Poitiers. The Queen's mother was daughter of the Vicomte de Châtellerault - we're distantly related."

"Huh - aren't all nobles related?" John scoffed. "You're probably related to Robin somehow!"

"Quite possibly. Wasn't Gisborne's mother French? We may be cousins."

John shuddered. "Don't even joke about that. There's no way you share blood with that black-hearted bastard."

"No, I share blood with a black-finger-nailed thief, remember?"

"So you do." John looked down at his fingers then back up, questioningly, at Legrand. "Have you known the Queen all your life?"

Legrand was slightly surprised by the question. "As good as. Though I didn't see her for many years when she was imprisoned in England by King Henry. I had joined Richard's service by then and was fighting for him, since he is also Duke of Aquitaine."

"Is she always so..." John tried to think of something that wouldn't risk Legrand chopping his head off for insulting the Queen. "Bold?"

Legrand laughed. "She always knows what she wants and will let very little stand in the way of her getting it."

"And does she often want...er..."

"Men like you? She's had a succession of champions her whole life - all of them large and fierce warriors - but she hardly ever takes them as lovers, though there have been a fortunate few. I've never seen her show this much interest so quickly and for a commoner, however. She's obviously very taken with you."

John blushed, remembering the particular parts of him Queen Eleanor had seemed most taken with. He had a sudden thought about what Legrand had said. _Large and fierce warriors_. "Did she ever... I mean, you're large and... not ugly...?"

Legrand roared with laughter. "'_Not ugly_'?! Now who is being the flatterer? And yes, she did. I served as her Champion for a while and very briefly as her lover but she quickly saw I loved her only as my Queen and not as a woman. She held no grudge against me for it and we became good friends. She has no malice in that way. I was deeply honoured by her attention though, as you should be."

"Legrand - I am deeply _scared _by her attention," John admitted. "She's a beautiful and elegant woman - a Queen! And I'm... I'm..."

"You're a good man, John and only scared because you don't know what that journey holds... but trust me, it's a journey you want to make should you get the chance. And I hope you do."

"Won't King Richard have you executed for giving up his mother to a... what was it? 'Scruffy English outlaw'?"

"He knows I would never do anything to harm the Queen," Legrand said with certainty. "Besides, if she has you in her sights, neither I nor King Richard will have much say in the matter!" he grinned.

There was a gentle tap at the hatch of the hold. It lifted to reveal Djaq's head. "John, Legrand - the fog is lifting slightly - we can see the shore."

"Thank you, Sa... Djaq. We'll be up shortly." Legrand caught himself just in time and both Djaq and John smiled. Djaq's head vanished again. "You see, John. Things have cleared up already." He stood up and dusted off his leggings.

"Yes, they have," John said, thoughtfully, standing up himself. "Legrand?"

"Yes?" He stopped as he was about to climb out of the hold.

"Thank you - for... everything."

Legrand smiled. "You're welcome, John. Thank you for saying I am 'not ugly'!"

"Well you're not. I'm - I'm glad Djaq was able to patch you up." John put his hand out and very hesitantly patted Legrand's arm.

Legrand stepped back off the ladder.

"Call me 'Guillaume'..."


	51. Acre: The Approaching Storm

**Summary**: Marian sees the Holy Land for the first time as the boat docks in Acre. She urges Allan to work with her to convince Guy that Vaizey's plot to kill the King must be stopped. Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13.

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian, Allan, Guy, Vaizey  
**Mentions**: Robin  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre**: Angst  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-One: Acre: The Approaching Storm**  
by  
**RobinFanatic**

-----------------

Marian breathed in the sea air. It was the first time in a week she'd been on the deck of the boat. Even on a cool January day the air in the hold was stifling, rotten. She was grateful that the last leg of their journey was no where near as arduous as the route that led them from Marseilles through Messina to Cyprus. Marian studied the foreign landscape beyond Acre's harbour--a walled city, grey-brown rooftops, the stench of too many people too long confined by war, by armies. There were few trees--none that reminded her of home--only palms, the same kind Guy had pointed out when they'd been in Cyprus. Their colour burst against blue sky, painting the stark landscape along with a handful of banners that flapped in the wind.

"Ever seen the likes of such a place?"

Marian glanced sidelong at Allan and shook her head. She shivered, wishing for the green of Sherwood...the forest...she missed the trees. Though many would be barren now in the midst of winter, they would be a welcome sight. She dreamed of England, of Robin. It was the thing that kept her sane during the months she'd been a prisoner on this journey. "What is to happen?"

Allan nodded toward the trunks being off-loaded onto a waiting carriage. "Sheriff has arranged a place for us in town. I overhead 'im and Guy talking--secret messages, contacts. I don't know. Don't s'pose 'e can just go knocking on King Richard's door."

"No," Marian frowned, "and that could be a good thing. It may take days for him to prepare his...little mission." Brow furrowed, she watched the activities like a lion stalking its prey. "You need to keep your eyes and ears open, Allan."

"And do what, Marian?" Allan fisted his hand and brought it down on the deck rail.

"Uncover their plan! Find a way to warn the king. We cannot let the Sheriff kill the king!"

Hadn't they had this conversation at the castle? Hadn't they had it a dozen times since then when he'd kept her company in the hold of the boat. Nothing had changed. Matter of fact, things seemed worse. "Look out there."

"What?" she said shortly, the exasperation in her voice clear.

"Do ya' see even one of the king's soldiers? Do you see his banners flyin' over Acre?"

"Well, no, but--"

"It's a foreign land, Marian. We dinnit even speak the language, and ya' think the locals like us English?" Allan shook his head. "And you want me to find someone to take a message to the king? I think you've been livin' under the deck without any sun for too long."

Marian's face reddened. "You listen to me, Allan A Dale." Her voice was low, angry. He'd seen her like this when she caught him showing Giz and the Sheriff one of Robin's secret entries into the castle. She'd nearly slit his throat then and he was certainly glad she had no blade hidden in her hair now. "How many times must I remind you that we may be England's only hope. We need to convince Guy that the sheriff and the Black Knights are wrong. If we can get Guy on our side I'll do anything..." Marian swallowed, "anything I have to."

"Right. Yeah, look...I been doin' some thinkin' about the king." Allan steeled himself for the backlash. "I just don't get it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why is Robin so 'igh an' mighty about him? I mean, the king rules a land that he's 'ardly stepped foot in."

Marian knew the truth in Allan's words but that made no difference. "You've been listening to Guy too much."

"Well it's true, innit? He wasn't even born in England. Dinnit grow up there. Been there, wot, once? When 'e took the crown."

"He is our king, Allan."

"Wouldn't it be better, ya' know, for 'omeland security and such, if the king was back home? Mindin' the likes of the sheriff, puttin' down the bad knights, helpin' the people like Robin says?"

"Of course, but he is here now, fighting this war. We must support our king." That declaration almost sounded shallow to her ears. She knew in her heart that this was the right thing to do. For a moment she chided herself for words she'd thrown at Robin--adventure and glory. _Ha,_ she thought..._had I been a man I would not hesitate to follow him to desert battlefields._ Marian took a deep breath, released it. "To do anything less means civil war, Allan. Haven't our people suffered enough? We must believe King Richard knows what is right for England--"

"What does 'e care as long as 'e gets 'is taxes to pay for...what did Robin call it? The pope's holy war. See...even Robin dinnit think the king should be fightin' over here."

_Robin._ They'd had a plan. Lardner's message...stop the fighting...bring the king home...get...married. A thousand regrets choked her tighter than the ropes on her hands. Memories of what she might have had with Robin were clouded by the darkness that seemed to breed around Vaizey. Her eyes narrowed watching him lord over his possessions, spitting orders at the boat's crew the way he ordered Guy to do his bidding.

Allan followed her gazed and winced. His stomach curled at the sight of the bastard. "I'll do what I can, Marian."

"Allan, stay away from Vaizey."

"You don't need to tell me that." He'd done everything possible to steer clear of the sheriff, not an easy task in the cramped quarters that had been home since they'd left Marseilles. Guy kept his word. He'd kept them safe. Allan remembered too many nights when Vaizey's moans played a sickening duet with the sea that crashed against the sides of the boat. Guy would stumble into his cabin just before daybreak and collapse onto the bed, falling into troubled sleep before Allan could clean the scratches on his back and arse.

"Keep talking to Guy. Maybe he'll let you--"

"Let him what?" Gisborne said.

Startled, Marian inhaled sharply. "Sir Guy."

He looked at her with delicious blue eyes, turning toward Allan when she turned away. "Plotting something, you two?"

Allan caught the disappointment on Guy's face. He almost felt sorry for him. "'Course not, Gis. We were just talkin' about seein' the town there. Gettin' out, checkin' the markets--"

"No games of chance here, Allan. They'll slit your throat before they ask questions."

Allan pressed his hand against his throat and tugged at his collar, which suddenly felt tight. Vaizey's appearance at his side explained that feeling. The sheriff smacked Allan roughly across the back, sending him stumbling into Guy. Grabbing the deck rail, Vaizey looked toward the city then held his arms out like he owned the place. "Come, come along, boys. Bring the leper, too," he said arrogantly. "I've heard that the Saracens love light-skinned Englishwomen." Tapping the railing, he threw a smug look Marian's way. "You should bring us a pretty penny."

Marian's eyes blazed with defiance. "You wouldn't dare--"

"It's the only reason I didn't have you thrown overboard." Vaizey smirked looking sidelong at Gisborne. "Isn't that right, Gizzy?"

Guy nodded, unwilling to disagree with his superior, unwilling to look at either Marian or Allan. "Of course, my Lord."

Marian glared at the Black Knights. It took every ounce of energy she had not to let her lips quiver, not to let them see how frightened she felt.

Allan sucked in a breath. This was getting ugly. He wouldn't put it past the Sheriff to be true to his word. Why else would he have brought Marian along? It made perfect sense. He'd put Guy's loyalty to the ultimate test and rid himself of someone who'd been a pain in his side. Marian was right. Their--_her_ only chance was to get Guy completely on her side. And not just to save the king. To save herself.


	52. Big Damn Hero!

**Summary**: A wild night, a narrow escape and an unlikely meeting. Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13.

**Characters/Pairings**: Robin, Brooks (OC), Carter/Much, Will, Djaq, Legrand, Little John  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre**: Angst, Hint of Slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

**

* * *

****Chapter Fifty-Two: Big Damn Hero!**  
by **  
DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Charles looked at the quiet group of people as they boarded ship from Cyprus. _Not your usual group of soldiers or sailors,_ he thought to himself. They stood out in spite of their attempt at anonymity, but one really stood out from the others. His youthful unshaven face was a mask of angry determination. Unlike the others he carried himself with a certain air of nobility although he was dressed like a pauper. His eyes caught the yeoman instantly. They had been described to him once by someone he met and he knew them immediately. Introductions were definitely in order.

It didn't take long for him to win the friendship of the ragtag group. The small dark woman was very friendly and kind. The two giants warmed gradually to the stranger they kept running into on the tiny ship, even laughing uncomfortably at his innuendo laced remarks. The young carpenter who never left the woman's side shared stories of incredible escapes as they huddled by the stove for warmth. Only the man he was told was their leader was made of ice, ice with smouldering emerald eyes. He watched the yeoman carefully as if every move he made was a plan to do them harm unfolding and every word a threat. Brooks recognized Robin instantly. He was the living incarnation of stories told to him by a friend.

He remembered that night two months earlier - the last time he saw them. He prayed every night for their safety. He was shaken from his memories by the small woman's voice. It was his time to tell a story and he knew just which one to tell.

~~~O~~~

_"You really meant cards!" Much was still amazed at how the other two men talked him into this. He was even more amazed at how cold it was getting in the room as he shivered in just his undershirt._ _"I knew it was you!"_

_Charles smiled as he sat wearing Carter's Templar tunic and Much's cap. "Really? How so, blondie?" All three men were intent as they held the intricately hand-painted cards in their hands.__  
_

_Much caught the leering look and tried best he could to cover his exposed body with his free hand. "Your eyes. Only one other person I know has such intense eyes..."_

_"Your former boyfriend?" Brooks chided.__  
_

_"My former master!" Much admonished. "He had the greenest eyes, like emeralds on fire. When he got angry, I swear at times they glowed." He sighed deeply. "I guess I'll never see Rob--"__  
_

_"I haven't played As Nas in ages," Carter interrupted. "But if you have to go, this is the way to do it I guess." He helped himself to another dried fig from Brook's pouch. He was so hungry he could have consumed the whole thing and had to watch Much to make sure he didn't._

_"I wish I could have brought more," Charles said. "But we'll be out of here soon...I hope." He looked over at Much. "Socks, now!"_

_The squire whimpered and cast a sideways glance at his partner, then slowly took off his hose and handed them to the yeoman. "I just hope there are no scorpions in here."_

_Carter smirked. "I don't remember this game being played for clothes before..."_

_"My horse, my rules," Brooks replied bluntly. "Besides, I'm not letting you two go without a repeat performance."_

_"We are half-naked, surrounded by the enemy, and about to face certain death and this one wants to get a leg over!" Much was indignant but it didn't stop him from taking a quick nod from Brooks' flask. "We are going to die... Worse, we are going to die naked and fornicating!"_

_Carter shrugged as he looked over his hand. "Can you think of a better way to go?" It was his turn to grin at Charles. "Three of a kind...leggings!"_

_"I was wondering when you would ask for those," Brooks purred as he slipped them off. He tossed his leggings at Carter and crossed his naked thigh over Much's. "That's better!" he said as he pulled the still fussy squire into a hot tongue battle. He pulled away sensing the tenseness. "Relax, I heard them talking out there. They are planning to attack at first light." He smirked as he cradled his lover's chin. "We have all night for...whatever."_

_"Comforting," Much replied._

_"I intend to be," Brooks leered as he made his way down the other man's now naked chest to his lap, making him hiss at the sudden sensation._

_"I fold," Carter said as he dropped his cards and and went over to the other two men. He immediately assisted Charles in calming Much.__  
__  
__Brooks smiled as he came up for air. "I guess that makes me the winner." _

_They took turns exploring each other with their hot mouths as the Saracen drums became a bizarre rhythm to their lovemaking. They used each other in every possible way that three men could, sure that with the dawn their blood would mix with the sand around them.__  
_

~~~O~~~

"You knew them!" Will was too excited to contain himself. Djaq turned in her lover's arms smiling. "I told you Much was safe."

Robin snorted, "Don't get your hopes up."

Brooks shot the defiant look he was given with one of his own. "If I may finish?" As he spoke he carefully edited the actual events of that night.

~~~O~~~

_Carter and Much spooned on each side of the yeoman. Brooks stroked their hair softly as they dozed. "You aren't asleep are you?"_

_Carter raised up. "How could you tell?" The soft snores from their lover answered his question. Carter smiled and then turned to Brooks. "How could I sleep knowing in a few hours...?"_

_"It isn't going to be like that," Brooks frowned. "I came here for a reason."_

_"I can't ask you to do that." Carter focused intently on his friend. "To give your life for ours..."_

_"I want to!" Brooks softened, "One horse -- three men. One of us has to stay." He nodded at the bundle of discarded clothing. "You didn't notice I wore enough for two Saracen soldiers did you?"_

_"No wonder you won!" Carter chuckled softly then sobered. "I can't let you sacrifice yourself for us, Charles."_

_"Maybe you won't!" The yeoman whispered back, "I once met a fortune teller, a __young gypsy girl who read my cards.__ She told me I would live a thousand lives before the shadow of death caught up with me. I didn't understand what she meant, but since then I have been almost drowned, poisoned, hung, stabbed, starved to death, and burned alive and walked away from all of it without a scratch." He looked at the blond knight. "I'll take my chances."_

_"You shouldn't tempt fate," Much whispered as he raised up._

_"Hello you! Back from dreamland?" Brooks smiled and brushed his lips against the squire's. "I wont let you two die," he shrugged. "Not even if it means I have to die myself. Before first light, you dress, crawl through that window, get on the horse and ride back to your camp."_

_"We'll send a regiment back for you," Carter nodded._

_"Just make sure I get a Christian burial," Brooks replied.__  
_

~~~O~~~

The ship swayed back and forth on the waves as the outlaws sat listening to the strange story. Djaq hugged her knees as she studied the man who told it. "You were trapped and surrounded by the enemy. How did Carter and Much escape?"

"I had on two Saracen uniforms. Hot as hell! I don't recommend walking in the desert for three days like that. They put them on and I dressed in Carter's chain mail and tunic."

"So you were then trapped all by yourself," Legrand said, almost disbelieving. "How did you get here?"

"Darndest thing," Brooks replied grinning. "I was standing there with my weapon ready when the Saracens broke down the door. The first man rushed toward me with that awful war cry of theirs and the floor dropped out from under me."

"You fainted," Will smirked.

"No! Even better, green eyes!" Brooks mused. "It seemed that ancient village was a smuggler's den riddled with old tunnels. The floorboards gave way under the heavy soldier's weight and we both landed at the bottom of one of them. I landed hard but he landed on my sword."

"Ouch!" Little John grimaced.

Brooks nodded. "I lay under sixteen stone of sweaty, bleeding, dead Saracen for a day it seemed, until the other soldiers left. I guess they thought we were both dead. When they were gone, I pried myself out from under him and followed the tunnels to the edge of the village. I dug my way out of the sand and figured maybe a life at sea was safer after all."

"You expect me to believe you met our old friends in the Holy Land?" Robin sneered accusingly. "No! I don't know how you know them. Maybe you are one of Prince John's spies." He pointed at the yeoman crossing the short distance to meet him face to face. "How you know about my friends, I will find out." Robin leaned in to the handsome sailor, "If they met with ill will at your hands, I will make you pay."

"Robin!" Djaq spat. "Don't mind him. He is upset. His fiancée..."

"I don't need you to speak for me, Djaq!" Robin fumed. "It was a good story but that is all. Much is probably..."

"Probably safe back in the King's camp with Carter because of me!" Brooks snorted. He glared at the outlaw leader. "A little gratitude maybe..." He got up to leave then stopped and retrieved something out of his doublet. "Oh by the way, if you see blue eyes again, he might want to have this back. He seemed awfully attached to it." He slapped the sweat-stained, familiar beige cap into the archer's hand. Brooks grabbed the bottle of wine and looked at the others, leering, "Who's up for a game of strip As-Nas below deck?"

Djaq giggled at the forward remark and took the lecher's outstretched hand. "How about we play a nice game of cards with our clothes on and then go to bed...alone."

"Killjoy!" Brooks mused taking her arm and Will's and walking down the stairs with them.

Robin looked at the ragged piece of cloth and lifted it to his nose, taking in the familiar scent. "Much..."

~~~O~~~

"He was in love with you." The voice reached Robin's ears but he ignored it, looking out onto the dark ocean. "I said..."

"I know what you said!" Robin spat back menacingly. "If I wanted your opinion I would ask for it!"

"It wasn't an opinion, it was an observation," Brooks snorted. "Much was right. You are a--"

"A what?" Robin spun around angrily.

"A hard man to love."

"Much knew..."

"Did he?" Charles leaned against the railing sizing up the man in front of him in the darkness. "'Cos the man I met was heartbroken."

"He is with Carter now."

"He is, but you left him with unfinished business. Much still loves you. "

Robin shifted uncomfortably under the stranger's gaze. "Two men cannot...and even if they could..." Robin blushed against the darkness. "If I could love him as he wanted, there's no chance for that now."

"Well Carter and Much do love each other. I've never seen two people so much in love. The problem is you're the ghost that's still there."

"Much knows how I feel about him!" Robin sighed raggedly, "He also knows I love Marian."

"Yes he does and it's killing him." Brooks looked out at the ocean. "I personally hope you never see him again."

"I'm sorry?" Robin turned again in anger.

"I hope for Carter's sake Much stays far away from you. I don't want to ever see them hurt and if it's at your hands then _we'll_ have a problem." He tucked his hands under his arms against the cold and walked away. "Good night, Robert of Locksley."

Brooks ran into a small figure heaving over the side as he made his way back to his bunk. "How far along?"

Djaq almost leapt overboard in surprise. She took a swig from a flask and wiped her mouth. There was no getting around the discussion she could see. "Almost four months I think. How did you know?"

"Your sea legs are too good for it to be seasickness. Does he know?"

"Will? No."

"You haven't told anybody yet, have you?"

"You won't..."

Brooks shook his head, "You have my word. But he has a right to know."

"I know and I will." She smiled. "I like you, Yeoman Brooks. You are a good man." She looked at him coyly. "You were more than just friends with them, weren't you?"

"Carter and Much? I would lay down my life for them and almost did."

"But you barely know them?"

"I know enough." He slung his arm around the small girl's shoulder. "Enough to know they love each other deeply and that kind of love deserves a fighting chance."


	53. Playing For Keeps

**Summary**: Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13 on a boat headed to Acre. Brooks shows John and Legrand there's more than one deck on the ship and Djaq suggests a deal of her own with Will...

**Characters/Pairings**: Little John, Brooks (OC), Legrand, Djaq/Will  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre**: General  
**Warnings**: Hint of Slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Three: Playing for Keeps**  
by  
**WastingYourGum** & **DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

"There you are big guy."

John stiffened slightly at the sound. It wasn't that he didn't like the young yeoman but when he was around the large outlaw felt almost...naked, as if every move or thought was being scrutinized. Nothing seemed to escape his notice and worse, his commentary. John was a man of private thoughts and he found the invasion unsettling - but still, the lad meant well. He shifted against the rail as the smaller man wedged in beside him, claiming his personal space once again. "Hrummmph!"

Brooks frowned at the eye-roll. "You're not still upset over the card game are you?"

John turned. "It's my favourite shirt...my _only _shirt!" He opened his jacket to reveal his leather jerkin over his bare chest.

Brooks snorted with sudden laughter but simmered down under the glare of John's eyes. "I'm sure you will get it back if you ask nicely...or play for it again," he grinned.

"I _thought _we were just playing cards!"

Brooks quietly snickered at the memory. "The look on your face..."

~~~O~~~

_Brooks laid his cards down with a flourish and a large smile. "You lose, John - give me your shirt!"__  
__  
__"What?!"__  
__  
__"Your shirt." Brooks held out his hand. "You lost... I won so I get to choose and I choose your shirt. You should be grateful I'm feeling in a generous mood! I usually go straight for leggings!"__  
__  
__"You didn't say we were playing for clothes! I thought it was just for fun!" John protested.__  
_

_"Playing for clothes _is _fun," Brooks leered. "Shirt - now!"__  
__  
__Legrand sat back and took another drink, laughing heartily at John's expression._

_"But... I don't have another one!" John said.__  
__  
__"Not my problem - hand it over, big guy!"__  
__  
__"It won't even fit you," John muttered.__  
__  
__"And your point is?" Brooks smiled.__  
__  
__"John, you still have your jerkin and your coat in your bunk - give him your shirt," Legrand chuckled. "He won it fair and square."__  
__  
__John scowled at Brooks and also at Legrand who was grinning hugely and doing nothing to hide his interest in what was about to happen.__  
__  
__"__Fine." John stripped the shirt off over his head and flung it into Brooks' face.__  
__  
__Brooks recoiled slightly. "Ugh! When did you last wash this?"__  
__  
__"It's my _only _shirt..." John repeated as he hugged his arms defensively across his chest. __  
__  
__"Then I'm sure it's very relieved that I've liberated it," Brooks said as he dropped it beside him. "Right - your deal, blondie." He handed the cards to Legrand.__  
__  
__"Count me out - I'm going back to my bunk. I've lost my shirt and my dignity already - that's plenty!" John growled.__  
__  
__"You don't want to try and win it back?" Brooks smiled innocently.__  
__  
__"And end up sitting here stark bollock naked? Thanks, but no."__  
__  
__John stood up and stared at the hatch, realising he would have to walk practically the entire length of the boat in only his leggings and boots. He sighed heavily. It wasn't nearly as cold outside as it would be back home but it still wasn't warm.__  
__  
__"Here." Legrand stood up and pulled his tunic off then handed it to John. "Just until you get your coat - I want it back!"__  
__  
__John hesitated then took it with a muttered, "Thanks." The fitted tunic was a little tight around his chest but for a quick dash through the lower decks it would be fine...__  
_

~~~O~~~

John snorted and tugged his jacket closed again.

"I think you got off lightly - I could have asked for your leggings!" Brooks reminded him.

"How generous of you," John smiled, sarcastically.

Legrand walked up to the other side of the two men. He stared out at the sea, stone-faced, as both John and Brooks tried to stifle their amusement.

"Cold day," John jested.

"Breeze blowing too," Brooks added.

The large Frenchman cursed softly in his native tongue, his cheeks glowing red in the salt air, "I want them back, _mon ami_."

~~~O~~~

_Brooks watched John leave then turned back to Legrand. He picked up his cards and studied them before laying one down. "He really has no idea, does he?"_

_"What?" Legrand asked, swapping two of his own cards.__  
__  
__"How much you like him."__  
__  
__"He knows - he just chooses to ignore it because it makes him nervous."__  
__  
__Brooks nodded and laid his cards down. "Three of a kind."__  
__  
__"Fils de salope!" Legrand threw his cards down in disgust.__  
__  
__"Leggings, please."__  
__  
__"What?! You asked for John's shirt first!"__  
__  
__"Yes, but he didn't know what game we're really playing, did he?" Brooks smirked and raised an eyebrow at the French knight.__  
__  
__Legrand smiled as he stood up and started loosening his belt. "No, he didn't..."_

~~~O~~~

"Say please," Brooks smiled.

Legrand scowled as he leaned against the rail. "If the yeoman wants my braies let him have them. It was a lucky hand."

"Lucky?" Brooks guffawed. "You'll tell me next the four hands I won after that were just luck too!"

Legrand sighed. "Fine. I don't know why you would want to keep a set of underwear that is far too big for you but may I _please _have them back?"

"Of course!" Brooks said happily. "You just had to ask."

"So I can have my shirt back too?" John looked hopefully at Brooks.

"Sadly no, I don't have it any more."

"What?! Who does?"

Brooks gestured with his eyes to the deck behind John and he turned to see the shirt in question walk by. John's shirt almost swallowed Djaq but she had creatively rolled up the sleeves and belted it. "Hello boys, up for another game later?"

"You gave my only shirt to..."

"She needed it!" Brooks rationalized. "At least she'll take better care of it!"

Will cradled his wife against the salt air as she walked up to him, "What was that all about? And why are you wearing John's shirt?"

"Apparently after we left, things got lively at the card game." Djaq smiled. "Brooks brought me John's shirt and asked me to wear it when I walked on deck this evening." She wrinkled her nose. "I fully intend to give it back to John when I'm done - but I'll wash and mend it before I do!"

"Why would he ask you to wear it? It is way too big for you."

"I think I'm displaying a trophy for him," Djaq chuckled. "Those three are becoming fast friends. It's good. John needs friends."

"Funny way to show it. Playing cards for each other's clothes."

Djaq smiled at her lover's innocence. "It had nothing to do with clothing," she said coyly, taking her lover's hand in hers. She flashed the hand painted cards at the carpenter. "Brooks also gave me something else to keep us entertained tonight. Come, my love, I'll let you deal the first hand."


	54. A Question of Trust

**Summary**: Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13. Another series of vignettes on the boat before the gang arrives in the Holy Land. Companion piece to Chapter 49: A Question of Doubt.

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq, Little John/Legrand, Robin**  
Mentions:** Marian, King Richard**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre**: Angst, Het, Hint of Slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Four: A Question of Trust**  
by  
**WastingYourGum**

* * *

"Do you trust me?"

The small cabin is cramped and it smells of spice and passion. The evening sun sends a honey coloured shaft of light through the small porthole above them.

They are grateful to their friends for giving them their privacy while they share crew quarters below. They relax together, naked, skin shining from the heat of the air and their love-making.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you. I love you." He softly kisses her hair.

She sighs and nestles further into his shoulder. She knows that once she tells him of the new life growing within her, that will become the primary, if not only, factor in all his decisions - whatever they may be. Despite her fears she cannot believe that he would choose to leave once he knows of his child - but would he stay for her alone?

"I am worried--"

"We're all worried," he reassures her, holding her tightly.

"No. I am worried that having returned to my home I will not wish to leave it again. I will be torn between the land I love and the man I love."

He says nothing. She can tell that the thought that to her _this _is home and not a foreign land has not truly hit him until now.

"Could you trust me to protect you in my land as you have protected me in yours?" she asks.

"Stay in the Holy Land? With you?"

She nods and as their eyes meet, she sees the answer already before his perfect lips form it. "I trust you with my heart and my life. I could no longer call England home without you in it. Whatever you choose - I will trust you."

~~~O~~~

"Do you trust me?"

The forward cargo hold is dark save for the solitary oil lamp. It smells of pitch and oak and damp. The sun is setting above them but no natural light ever reaches this part of the ship.

The dark-haired man stands by the stair, looking into the dimly lit space, the light hanging from the ceiling behind him gently swinging with the motion of the ship. His breathing is fast, not used to the confined spaces below decks but still unnerved by the endless open sky above.

"I'm here, aren't I?" It's a defensive growl. He's unwilling to admit anything out loud, always one to prove himself through actions not words. He takes an involuntary step backwards and crosses his arms as the other figure rises out of the shadows to stand just that bit too close in front of him.

"Do you trust me?" The voice is quiet but insistent, demanding an answer.

He can say no and leave, breathe the salt air and try to calm the churning in his stomach, pretend it is sea-sickness and not fear. Instead he draws in a deep, shivering breath, drops his arms to his sides and closes his eyes.

"Yes."

It's the slightest whisper but says so much.

He flinches at the sudden touch of a hand on his hip. Fingers comb gently through his hair then rest on his shoulder as a warm body presses against him in the lightest of embraces. There is a brief moment of panic as he feels soft lips brush against his forehead. He almost bolts for the exit but he knows he has no other way to prove himself except by giving himself. It is all he has.

"Open your eyes."

A large, calloused hand strokes the side of his beard as his deep brown eyes meet the grey-blue of his friend. He knows his fear must be evident from the other man's reaction but still he doesn't say anything.

"If you trust me, why are you afraid?" The voice is soothing now, not demanding.

He licks his lips nervously, heart pounding, breathing still too fast and his eyes widen in surprise as he realises the answer.

"I'm not." His breathing calms and pulse slows. "Not any more."

There is a deep, throaty chuckle that sets his heart racing again but for a different reason.

"Thank you. That was all I needed to hear. I should let you go now." His captor steps aside and gestures to the stairs leading up to fresh air and freedom.

"Maybe..." he pauses, knowing this will change _everything_. "Maybe I don't mind staying...for a bit."

Their eyes meet again and they both smile.

As the voice moves closer again it contains both the promise of heaven and the wickedness of the Devil himself. "You trust me?"

"Yes. I trust you."

~~~O~~~

"Do you trust me?"

The deck is the coolest place to be and they stand in the twilight, watching foreign shores slip silently by under cover of darkness, enjoying the sea air. It carries unfamiliar scents of lands much hotter than their home. The last light of day is vanishing far behind the boat's stern.

"You know we do."

"I will take you to a friend of my Uncle's. His name is Bassam. He is a good man. He will help us find the English camp if your King is not in Acre."

"Thank you." He looks at them all gathered around him and his emerald eyes blaze with fierce conviction. "It's good to know you're with me - for him."

She shakes her head but it is the gruff voice of the eldest which surprises him. "No. We're here for Marian - and for you."

The lithe young man standing with his arms around the woman nods in agreement. "For Marian."

"I do not know your woman - I am here for the King." The tall, broad-shouldered blond admits his primary allegiance easily. "But I am also here for my comrades, both old and new." His gaze rests on each of them in turn, quickly glancing away as he meets the oldest eyes.

"Thank you, all of you. Get some rest; we're only a few days away now."

They say nothing but each lays a reassuring hand on his arm or shoulder as they depart. He looks out into the darkness of the horizon ahead then closes his eyes, picturing her face.

"I'm coming, my love. Trust me, I'm coming."


	55. Unto Us a Child Is Given

**A/N: **Sorry for the long absence. This was intended as a Christmas fic but RL had other ideas. Enjoy the belated gift.

**Summary**: Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13 on the Outlaw's boat to Acre.

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq**  
****Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre**: Fluff, Het  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Five: Unto Us a Child is Given**  
by  
**DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

The knife shaved away slivers of the hard wood silently as his skilled hands felt the shape he was carving in the darkness more than his eyes saw it. The rhythm of the waves had become more than familiar as his blade moved in time with them to shape the wood. He looked over at his sleeping bride as she suddenly stirred. He put down his work and turned to the real object of his affection.

Will's long fingers danced over Djaq's supple brown skin as she smiled. He whispered softly, "Are you sleeping?"

"With you doing that? No, I'm not," his lover cooed back.

The young carpenter smiled as she turned to face him and placed her small, dark head upon his pale bare chest. "How far are we going on this thing?" he asked.

"To Acre. We are still days away."

His brow furrowed. "I never dreamed I would travel so far over water."

"You are not frightened, are you?" Djaq smiled.

"Are you?"

"The first time I was terrified. I did not know if I would ever see my homeland again or if I would survive once the journey ended." She rose up on one arm, "Now I have you, Will Scarlett. I am not afraid."

The carpenter ran his finger down his new wife's nose. "Then I'm not either. As long as I have you I could march into Hell itself." He reached down beside him and picked up the carving he had spent so many quiet moments on when she wasn't looking. "I made this for you."

Djaq held the small carving up to the dim light of the lantern and her breath caught in her throat. She marveled at the small figure of a baby in a cradle and blinked back tears, "How did you know?" she whispered.

"Know what?" Will replied in surprise. "It's the baby Jesus. He was a carpenter like me." He examined her face in the dark, puzzled by the mixed emotions that he saw. "I know Christmas is a holiday your people don't celebrate but my dad carved the baby Jesus in a manger for my mum their first Christmas together. I thought I would do the same for you." His eyes welled up. "By the time we lost her, she had a whole nativity set. One winter, we got so cold and ran out of wood. Dad had to burn them to keep us from freezing. All except for Jesus." Will's lips trembled at the bitter memory, "He said...he said, 'freeze to death or not, we could never burn the baby Jesus or Mum would come back to haunt us.'" Will was alone in thought for a second then his eyes went wide. "Why did you ask if I knew?" Realization flashed across his face. "Djaq are you...?"

"I'm not sure...I think so. Please tell me you are glad." She was almost on the verge of tears herself.

Will's voice softened as he embraced her. "You are having my baby, how could I be anything else?"

Djaq sobered as she listened to Will's heart beating against her ear. Her eyes misted, "Your heart beats so strong, Will Scarlett." She leaned up and caught his pale green eyes in her rich deep brown ones. "I hope our son is as strong as you are."

"Whatever it is I'm sure it will get it's strength from its Mum."

Djaq showed true fear for the first time. "Robin will make me leave the gang."

"No he won't," Will reasoned. "And he doesn't have to know right now," he consoled. "But we will have to tell him eventually."

"But not now," Djaq pleaded.

Will calmed his lover with a kiss. "When you are ready we will tell them...all of them." He beamed at the thought. "A baby!"

"Keep smiling like that and it won't be a secret long, Will Scarlett!" Djaq admonished.

"What will we call it?"

"It's too soon to name it yet, my love," Djaq smiled as his strong hands encircled her belly. She smiled suddenly, "I have been thinking, if it's a boy, we will name it Dan, after your father."

Will frowned slightly. "What if it's a girl?"

"We will name her Jane."

Will's eyes glistened again at the thought of his self-sacrificing, late mother. "I wish she could have met you, Dj...Safiyya."

The Saracen girl beamed at the sound of her real name. "I would have been honoured to meet your mother."

"And I your brother," Will smiled. "If it is a boy, we will call him Daniel Djaq Scarlett."

Djaq shed a single tear of joy. "A strong name to honour two strong men."

"Safiyya Jane if its a girl." Will smiled, "She should have a strong name to honour two strong women too."

Djaq turned, took her lover's face in her hands and kissed him. "Whatever it is, I will love it because it is a part of you. I love you, my husband."

"And I love you, my wife."


	56. Revelations

**Summary**: Takes place between 2x12 and 2x13 on the Outlaw's boat to Acre.

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq, John, Robin, Legrand, O.C.  
**Mentions**: Much/Carter, Gisborne, Marian, Allan, Vaizey  
**Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre**: Angst, Fluff, Het  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Six: Revelations**  
by  
**DarkenTwisted**

-----------------

Djaq let the salt air waft across her face as she waited for her lover. John's shirt felt and smelled better and she hoped he would appreciate her efforts at laundering. She hugged herself against the breeze and waved at John, Legrand and Brooks. She laughed at the gentle giant's eye roll as she pirouetted in his former garment.

Will walked up to meet her embrace. "You shouldn't torture him like that." He snuggled into her as they looked at the three men. "John's shirt smells better. You really should give it back to him."

Djaq smiled an impish grin. "Oh, I can do that now!" She started to pull the garment over her head revealing an enticing strip of tan flesh.

Will blushed his surname as he shielded his giggling wife. "Not now!" He caught the eyes of the yeoman as Brook's brow shot up in amusement. Will pulled down his wife's borrowed shirt and changed the subject. "Is he coming with us to the Holy Land?"

"You like Charles?" Djaq smiled, "I do too." She shook her head. "I asked him. He said 'No. Too much time in the sand.'"

"But Much and Carter..."

"Have each other and he knows that." Djaq studied the three men. "Allan would have liked..."

"Don't say his name in my presence, Djaq. Please?" Will's tone changed instantly.

"I am sorry but he was my...our friend once. I cannot talk about him like he doesn't exist."

"He doesn't exist to me anymore." Will turned to walk away as his wife grabbed his arm. He looked down at her hand then back into her eyes. "Why did he leave us, Djaq? Why did he go to Guy and Vaizey? Why did he...have to hurt me?"

"I don't think it was purely his choice, Will."

He studied her face. "As Robin says, everything is a choice..."

"Allan thought he had no choice." Djaq sighed. "He made a mistake and no one forgave him. Then he stayed because he felt he had to protect Marian." She spoke without realizing. "Vaizey found out Marian was the Nightwatchman." Before the words were out, the Saracen girl regretted saying them aloud.

"Why didn't you tell me this, Djaq?" Robin's disappointed voice sounded behind her.

"Robin?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he spat, shaking the girl.

"I...I didn't know how to tell you!" Djaq's brown eyes widened in surprise as she met his angry green ones. "I didn't think it changed anything."

Robin grabbed the young girl's arms. "That is where you are wrong! This changes everything!"

"Get your hands off my wife. Now, Locksley."

The carving knife at his throat was hardly a surprise, the voice behind it was. Only one time had he heard Will Scarlett so angry. His father had just been murdered and the young carpenter was willing to bring the wrath of the prince of England down upon them all to avenge Dan's death. It was the same still, calm and lethal voice he used now.

"Let her go."

John was at Will's arm in a second. "Put down the knife--now!"

Will locked eyes with the outlaw leader's, then relented.

Robin released the Saracen and looked at her sadly. "Djaq..."

"It's alright, Robin. I will explain."

~~~O~~~

In the cabin, Djaq hugged her knees as she spoke making her look more a little girl in John's shirt than the warrior and healer that she was. "Allan came to me..."

"It's always about Allan!" Robin's jaw tensed as he lunged toward the healer. Legrand moved to get up and act as the small woman's protector again, but John blocked him cautiously.

"You never told me," Will's brow furrowed.

"And what would you have done? Chased him down, killed him for betraying the gang?"

"We are not like that Djaq! I would have given him a chance to explain himself. Then I would have killed him." Robin paced as he talked.

"That is what he was afraid of," Djaq reasoned. "He came to me hoping that I would tell you about Marian." She suddenly went as defiant as a caged animal. "I decided it best not to."

"Why? Why would you do that, Djaq?" John's disappointed tone stung worst of all to her. She had always compared him to her beloved Bassam but her jaw locked. She would not be intimidated by the giant.

"Because you are men. You stumble in blindly. You never question. You just assume the obvious." She raised her head assuredly. "Robin, if you did know, what would you have done?"

"I would have gone after her; convinced her to leave; taken her by force if I had to."

"And played right into Gisborne's and the sheriff's hands," Djaq lamented. "I couldn't allow it. Marian wouldn't have allowed it either. We both did what we had to do."

"So you covered for Allan...again," Will almost whispered. He shook his head and walked out the door. Djaq's moist eyes followed him.

"This is all on you," Robin said. "Whatever happens to Marian, you could have prevented it."

"Robin, I..."

"That's enough, Djaq." The outlaw leader almost looked through her as he started to leave. "I just hope for your sake and mine, there are no more secrets you are hiding from me."

The last two men in the room looked at the small girl, not angrily, but almost pityingly. Legrand excused himself at John's nod. His large frame temporarily blocked the light coming in from the open doorway as he exited.

"I will talk to Robin, Djaq," John sighed. He sounded years older and tired as he spoke.

"I did not mean to betray the gang, John." Djaq was almost on the verge of tears.

"You didn't betray the gang." John placed his hand on her shoulder. "But you did underestimate us and that hurts almost as bad as any betrayal." He smiled like a father to a child. "I guess we all have done that to each other at some time." He nodded to the door. "Go after your husband and talk to him now. I'll deal with Robin."

~~~O~~~

"Will?"

"How could you?" He thrust her away as she approached him. "After everything that traitor did to the gang - to us - you talked to him and kept his secrets."

"Whatever he did he is still our friend..."

"No! Allan A'Dale is dead to me! He's a liar and a traitor and..."

"I understand your anger but he saved Marian."

"So he told you and you believed his lies!" Will turned away from her and spoke so softly as to almost not be heard. "You don't know the monster he has become."

"Allan made a bad decision, Will, but--"

Will's voice took on a darker more ominous tone though it had not risen in volume. The hurt behind his words made Djaq shudder. "You don't know what he did to me when they captured us."

"You and Andrew the Fool."

Will nodded, fine beads of sweat covered his forehead. "Allan was drunk. They had me chained...in a cell...like an animal. He tried to say he was sorry afterward but what man does that to his friend?"

Djaq's expression changed from sadness to terror. "No! Not Allan. He wouldn't..."

"In that instant he took everything from me, Djaq." Will turned and she saw the wetness on her husband's cheeks. "How can I be a father after what he did?"

"Oh, Will. Why after all these months did you not..."

"Because you still loved him! You still thought he was worth saving." Will turned away again. "There is nothing left there to save, Djaq. The Allan A Dale we knew is dead, replaced by some monster Gisborne has created."

Djaq grabbed her lover and held him. "You should have told me about this. Your secrets are my secrets now." She smiled. "And you are wrong. You are going to be a wonderful father. You are a wonderful man."

Will shook his head. "I'm not a man anymore...not now."

Djaq smiled coyly. "Nothing has changed Will Scarlett. You are every bit the man I fell in love with." She murmured as she kissed away his troubles, "Let me prove it to you."

~~~O~~~

The waves lapped at the side of the ship. Robin bit his thumb as he watched each lazy trough. He had been watching the ocean for so long he lost track of the passage of time. The setting sun told him it was late in the day but he wasn't tired, just weary from the long journey that was proving more fruitless by the hour.

He stared at the water. It would be so easy just to step over. No one would miss him till he was gone. Perhaps he would be united with Marian under the waves and they would be at peace.

He swept the thought out of his mind a thousand times but in quiet moments the dark images took over. Marian would beg for her life as Vaizey or Gisborne pushed her over, her milky skin mixing with the seafoam; her fear-struck brilliant blue eyes calm as the last breath left her. He wiped the tears that image brought forth on a tattered sleeve. "If not in life my love..."

"You don't want to do that." A strong hand grabbed a fist full of the back of his jerkin. "Now is not a good day to die."

"When is it a good day to die, John?" Robin sighed as he rested against his friend. "I lost them all; Roy, Much, Allan, Marian. I tried to do the right thing but I..."

"You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough. It's never enough. Marian...I couldn't keep her and now she is..."

"Waiting for you...for us... to rescue her," John muttered. "She's not dead, Robin."

"How do you know that?" The archer's face turned to the giant with the upturned brows of a sad child.

"Cos you would know it here." John put his hand on Robin's chest. "And we wouldn't be travelling halfway across the bloody world to save her if you thought anything else."

Robin smiled for the first time all day as his friend cuffed his head. "Thanks, John."

"Well, now that I know you won't be taking your Saturday bath early, we have to talk about Djaq."

Robin squirmed uncomfortably, still looking out at the ocean. "I was too hard on her."

"You had your reasons."

"And she had hers." Robin faced John again questioningly, "Is it true what she said John, do we just stumble in blindly?"

"Sometimes we do." John screwed up his face and cast an impatient look at his friend. "Lord knows, I try to stop you." He couldn't help laughing at the incredulous stare he got in return. "They are two headstrong women you boys have, Marian and Djaq, like my Alice. I have no idea what you will do with her once you get her back."

Robin looked away again. "Djaq meant well. I just hope Will can forgive her as I have."

"I don't think that will be a problem," John muttered looking in the direction of the setting sun.

The carpenter and his wife walked by quietly, arm in arm, their figures silhouetted against the evening light.


	57. As the Earth Grows Dark

**Summary**: Takes place a few weeks before the gang arrives in the Holy Land in 2x13. Gossip about Robin and the gang's involvement in the attempt on Queen Eleanor's life gets Much in a bit of hot water. Carter discovers that he's not immune to the green-eyed monster, and the boys manage to find a moment of intimacy before their world begins to crumble around them.

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Genre**: slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe  
**Notes**: Beta'd by WastingyYourGum, DarkenTwisted & JAGNikJen.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Seven: As the Earth Grows Dark**  
by  
**RobinFanatic**

-----------------

The messenger only said, _go to the healer's tent,_ and Carter feared the worst. _Much is fine,_ he told himself. _He survived that Saracen poison. He's fine._ Heart pounding, Carter ran across the camp, nearly stumbling in the sand. He was out of breath when he heard the cries coming from the tent.

"Oi! Stop!"

Carter threw aside the flap and barged into the tent.

"Ouch!" Much shouted. "That hurts."

The healer glared at his patient. "Hold that salve against your nose or I will show you what hurts really means."

The sight of his squire with a black eye and bloody nose was too much, especially when Carter expected to see him pierced by a sword again. He was so relieved he couldn't hold back his laughter. "What happened?"

"You should tell this one to mind his tongue, Sir Carter," Rahiim replied before Much could respond. "He will not need to worry about dying at Saracen hands. Your own countrymen will take care of that."

"Oi!" Much cried out again as Rahiim cleaned the cut below his eye. "I don't want them as countrymen when they--ouch! Could you be a little more gentle? Please?"

Carter drew close to inspect the damage to Much's face. He started to touch him, but Much squirmed away. "Did they break it?"

"No, though one more punch to his nose might have. It is badly bruised. He will be his usual handsome self in a matter of days." Rahiim winked at Carter. He gathered his supplies and frowned as Much removed the salve again. "_If_ he keeps that balm on his skin." He shrugged. "And if he does not, he may be permanently scarred."

_"What!"_ Much cried. "You said it wasn't that bad."

Rahiim merely smiled then looked at Carter. "Get him out of my tent. Try to keep him out of trouble."

"You ask the impossible," Carter replied with a mischievous grin. He tugged at Much's arm. "C'mon, you," he said as they wandered back across the tent city. "Would you tell me what happened?"

"They were talking about Robin again. Calling him a traitor."

Carter saw the pain in Much's eyes and hoped his squire did not see the exasperated look he was sure was on his own face.

"Robin did _not_ try to kill Queen Eleanor!" Much insisted. "He wouldn't...he'd never do that!"

"We both know that." Carter's voice grew soft. "What happened to the promise you made to me?"

"I know I said I'd ignore the gossip, but Sir James' squire and a few of the knights were talking about how brave Vaizey was, how he was such a noble man, and they planned to be there when the king sentenced Robin to hang. One even said he heard Vaizey was stabbed during the attack and Prince John stayed in Nottingham 'til he recovered--"

"Rumours, Much, just rumours."

"Why haven't we heard from Robin? Don't you think the Queen Mother would've written to the king about what really happened? Do you think Robin received the message we sent?"

Carter sighed._ Robin this...Robin that... _Much was so worried about his friend...his former master..._his former lover_. Carter chided himself for being jealous and threw his arm across Much's shoulder. "I'm sure we'll hear something soon."

~~~O~~~

"Much, it's cold out here." Carter stood at the entrance to the tent and shivered. "What's wrong?"

Banners flapped gently in the cool breeze that swept through the king's camp. Torch lights fluttered. Voices murmured across the sands rising now and then from the tent city, nearly drowned out by the horses shuffling in their make-shift corral. It was peaceful with the full moon and vast sea of diamonds overhead. The enemy slept for once. And for just a short while Much could lie outside and forget that they were at war.

"Just laying here. Looking at the stars."

"Awfully late," Carter said.

"Couldn't sleep." Much's nose ached and his head hurt from the beating earlier in the day. He felt heartsick about Robin, but the truth was that there had been too many battles these last few weeks, too many close calls with death. It was hard to sleep when those thoughts intruded; and when sleep did come, it was often filled with nightmares. In Sherwood, the dreams about the war weren't so real _because _they were home. But here in the Holy Land, it was often hard to tell the dream from the reality--death seemed so much closer. Much shook off the dark thoughts and patted the desert sand, cocking his head toward the skies when Carter sat down. "Thought I'd go over my stars lesson."

Carter turned sharply. "You're not thinkin' about..." He paused, peering across the mass of white to ensure no one was within ear's reach. He threw his lover a wink, remembering that particular lesson when they'd traveled to the Holy Land across deep blue waters beneath star-filled skies. Oh, God, how he wished for a night in the crow's nest right now, sitting high above the deck, his arms encircling Much's waist, the feel of hard flesh, and Much's hands on his body. He took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

"Well, no, I wasn't." Much glanced sidelong at his lover, and then tipped his head from side to side and tried to hide a grin. "Well, not _just _that." His fingers furtively reached for Carter's hand beside his in the sand. They made contact for only a few seconds before Much reluctantly pulled away. "I was just wondering what the gang was doing."

Carter withheld a sigh. "They are doing the same thing you are, Much. Worrying. Thinking about you." Laughing lightly, Carter's blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. "And if _I_ am on their minds, it's only to curse me for taking you away. Just think of everything you did for them. You hunted for their dinner, skinned your catch, cooked it, and cleaned up after them. Saved their hides more times than--"

"Mended Robin's clothes, too," Much interrupted. He almost mentioned the times the gang barely escaped from the sheriff's hands. He'd worried about them, wondered if... if... _No,_ he thought, _they're all fine._ He'd been so close to death himself after being nicked by that poison Saracen blade, yet here he was just thinking of the gang. "Do you really think they miss me?"

"I know they do. Look up there," Carter pointed. "Orion the hunter..."

The last time Much traced the stars of Orion he couldn't bring himself to say anything. This time the words came a bit easier. "Like Robin."

Carter squirmed. He knew of Robin's hold over Much's heart, but he'd never been jealous about anyone or anything before. He knew the difference between friendship, comfort, lust, and love. So why did this bother him now, hearing his lover still remembering Robin more than a year since they'd left England? Remembering a man who'd used him, who'd not really loved him at all. It made him angry with himself, made him angry with Robin, too. He needed to forget that. Much was here. With him. And they loved each other. How could anything change that? He pushed aside the tinge of jealousy. "He's up there every night, keeping an eye on you."

"Him up there." Much turned to Carter. "You down here. That's good to know."

"C'mon. Time to sleep, all right?"

It was nearly pitch black inside the tent with moonlight barely filtering through the walls. Carter's arms found Much as the flap closed behind him. His lips sought out his lover's and they connected with a gentle kiss. Carter's hands slipped around Much's waist and under his tunic. His hands splayed against the small of Much's back, and he pressed him close. Their kisses grew more urgent.

Much moaned softly, his body reacting to even the slightest movement of Carter's fingers against his flesh. "Sleep?" Much teased. "I don't think so..."

Carter lifted Much's tunic, slipping it upwards slowly, his mouth trailing behind it with sensuous kisses up his squire's chest and across his shoulder to his neck.

Much suppressed a moan. He arched his back as Carter pressed against him again. Much's body ached with desire, every nerve on fire. When their lips connected again, he ground against his lover, his own hands slipping into Carter's leggings to cup his arse.

"I love you," Carter whispered, his hands mirroring Much's.

Much responded with a bruising kiss, his mouth so hot that Carter felt his knees weaken. Much's hands moved up his back and around to his stomach, then he slowly lifted Carter's clothing over his head and threw it across his cot. Palms gently explored his chest, tracing his muscled abs.

Carter trembled beneath his lover's touch, marvelling that the passion he'd felt the first time they'd made love was just as strong as ever.

He welcomed another rough kiss, then whimpered when Much pulled away. Much's eyes caressed his face. He ran a finger across Carter's lips, tracing the curve of his mouth, then down his chin to his neck.

Carter's breaths grew short. He anticipated where Much's casual exploration might lead and thought he'd go mad. Strong hands topped his shoulders then ran down his arms. Kisses brushed his ear, his neck, and teeth nibbled his shoulder.

Much's hand twined through Carter's fingers as his tongue traced down his chest then tickled one nipple. Carter clenched Much's hand and pressed it toward his aching groin. He guided it up and down his hard shaft. "Oh, God, Much..." he said softly, forcing his lover's hand into his braies and around his cock. With his other hand, he tugged at Much's clothing. He released his swollen shaft and brushed it against his own, catching Much's fingers in his play while they worked each other gently, matching stroke for stroke. Their mouths locked in another passionate kiss. Suppressing their lust-filled groans, they panted into each other. Carter grabbed Much's arse with his free hand and thrust his hips to bring them closer to the edge.

"Oh... oh... Carter!" Much cried out into his shoulder as warm seed spilled sticky, wet and welcome into their hands. Carter climaxed a moment later, and then both men collapsed to the mat on the ground. Much wrapped his arms around Carter tightly relishing the feel of hot flesh while their hearts found normal beats. Much planted a kiss on the knight's forehead. "I love you, Carter," he murmured.

Carter could not take his eyes from Much's face as he watched his lover drift toward sleep. His eyelashes brushed cheeks turned golden by the desert sun, his lips curled into a gentle smile. Carter rested his hand on Much's waist. The memory of his touch, the way he said his name, the look in his eyes...it made Carter feel like all the stars in the heavens were his. And the stars were forever...weren't they?


	58. Sacrifice

**Notes: Welcome to a new author! We're really pleased to have perteltote on board, who'll be helping with the Team Leather storylines.  
**

**Summary**: Takes place a few days after Team Leather arrives in Acre. The Sheriff decides that it is about time he revisited Allan...and maybe Marian too. This is what happens.

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian, Guy, Allan, Vaizey  
**Mentions:** Robin  
**Rating**: R  
**Genre**: melodrama...implied slash  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Eight: Sacrifice  
**by**  
****Perteltote**

"Look Maz, you got to eat sometime, yeah?"

Ignoring him, Marian stared at the wall. It was already the end of their third day in Acre, and neither Guy nor Allan had raised a hand to stop her…sale…to the highest bidder. Bile rose in her throat at the thought – she would rather die than be a slave to some man's lust for the rest of her life. She would die first!

So she stared at the wall, stubbornly ignoring the platter that Allan had brought into the room with him.

Allan started again, "Maz, not being funny, but…"

He was interrupted by the scrape of the door as a large body entered the room.

"Guy," Allan said, "she still won't eat anyfing, and now she won't even look at me."

In two strides, Guy was at her side, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Marian, you will stop this foolishness; you will eat!" he commanded. She closed her eyes so she did not have to see his cold blue ones, did not have to remember the way his face had gone stiff when he agreed to the sheriff's plans for her, did not have to remember the way he had ignored her promises and entreaties ever since.

"Marian, please," she heard him say, his tone different, softer, this time. "Please, you must keep your strength. Please…I cannot bear…" He released her face and she opened her eyes, felt a flare of anger as he sank to his knees in front of her chair with his gaze down at her feet.

"Stop this pretense, Guy! You will not trick me into fattening myself for market. I will be dead the week after you sell me, and I wish that I was dead now, so I did not have to..." Her voice caught in her throat when he looked up at her, and instead of the ice that she had expected she saw that his eyes were full of pain. Surprise flooded her as, once again, she remembered that his black leather was as much of a mask as her Nightwatchman costume had ever been.

"Marian…" he started, but jumped back to his feet and stiffened as the door scraped open again.

The sheriff stepped in and she glanced at Guy , saw the ice slide back into place before she turned her face to the wall.

"Mmm, yes, Gisborne, visiting your little pet? Good! We're all here," Vaizey said as he glanced around the room, eyes lingering on Allan. "Thought I'd find you here Gizzy," he continued, "wanted to let you know that you are to bring both of them to my chamber…tonight…in, oh, would five minutes be enough? And do leave the lady's manacles…on…. I think I like her better that way." He giggled when Gisborne drew himself up, face unreadable.

"Oh, don't worry Gisborne, I'll let her live, she's proving to be very…valuable…. I'll even pass her on to you before we sell her off. That should make you happy…it's what you've wanted all this time, isn't it?" He smiled again at the look on Gisborne's face, then his gaze slid to Allan while he added, "Your boy, however, might not be so lucky..." He giggled and then snapped, "Five minutes, Gisborne! Or you'll join them!" He breezed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Marian felt the nausea return, pressing against her throat, and knew that if she had eaten anything in the last three days, she would be losing it now. She jerked her hands frantically against her manacles, knew that she could not escape, finally understood what it was to be completely helpless. She looked at Allan, saw the way his skin had turned pale, saw the same fear in his eyes. She barely noticed the platter drop from his hand, but she saw how he crouched against the wall, already defeated; a kicked dog with nowhere left to hide. Allan had told her, had told her what they were protecting her from, but she had not believed him, had been unable to believe until now. Finally, she forced her gaze to Guy, still standing in the same position that the sheriff had left him. He was perfectly still, face blank except for a solitary muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Guy," Marian gasped, hardly recognizing her voice as it left her throat, "Guy, if you ever cared for me…"

He suddenly started, seemed to come back to himself. He stepped over to Allan, and Marian watched, heart sinking, as he pulled the claw dagger out of his jacket. She blinked in surprise when he pressed the hilt into Allan's hand, and began speaking urgently, "You must get her out of here, you must both leave. I can no longer protect you…" He glanced at Marian, and his voice broke as he begged, "Please protect her, I will try…please, don't let…you must get the manacles off somehow…there have been rumours…sightings of Hood…you must…please, Allan!"

He stepped over to her, stared at her before reaching out to carefully tuck her hair behind her ear. He slid a hand into his jacket, pulled something out of a pocket just above his heart. He pressed it into her hands, and when she looked down, she was surprised to see one of her jeweled hair daggers, the same one her father had used in his cell. He must have noticed the surprise on her face because, as he wrapped her fingers around it, he muttered, "I have kept it...I would not leave you helpless…" He stared at her again before continuing, eyes begging. "Please…I…will you…please try to remember only the good I have done for you." He leaned down, placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before hurrying to the door. They heard the sheriff's voice roaring from the next room, "GISBORNE!! NOW!" He turned and looked back at her one last time, and she was shocked to see fear in his eyes before he closed the door.

Marian looked dazedly over at Allan, who was still pale, but was at least standing up straight now. "Allan… Robin is alive? Guy… why? What is he…?"

"You don't want to know, Marian," Allan said, and she noted that his pallor momentarily increased even as he moved purposefully around the room.

"But surely I have never heard him say please so many times in one conversation… or even at all for that matter," she half-heartedly jested.

He ignored her comment, all seriousness for once, as he searched the room. Finally, he stopped and smiled as he picked up some metal shavings lying in the corner. "Maybe I can get you out with these." He moved over to her and began to work on the manacle lock. "Guy is right, innit he? You heard the sheriff, we really do need to disappear."

"But why was he talking like that, Allan, why was he acting like that?" she asked, remembering the brush of his lips on her cheek. "It was like he expected never to see us again."

Allan continued working at the lock in silence, and Marian was silent, too, trying to understand what was happening. _Could Robin really be alive? And here? _She felt a small bubble of hope rise in her chest, but it was quickly submerged in worry. _What is happening to Guy? What will the sheriff do to him?_ Abruptly, she was torn out of her musings by a monstrous sound. It was absolutely inhuman, and Marian had to suppress an unthinkable suspicion anyway. Allan stopped, crouched over her irons, frozen in place as it echoed through the room.

"Allan, what is that? What is that noise? It can't be…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...Allan, that sounds like Guy."

Allan remained still; she tried to catch his eyes, but he did not see her. His face stayed blank, with a strange inward focus.

"Allan. We have to help him."

He abruptly shook his head and resumed working. "We can't. This is what he is doing, he wants us to get away, this is the only way."

"But Allan, the sheriff is killing him."

Allan refused to meet her eyes and the monstrous sound went on and on until she thought that she would go mad if it lasted for one more second. Abruptly, it stopped, and she was left uncomfortable in the silence, afraid of whatever had happened and equally frightened that it had stopped. The silence stretched as her body wound tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, they heard a loud thump and then the sound of slow footsteps moving down the hall. Marian looked at Allan as his hands stilled, was shocked to glimpse tears in his eyes. Allan cursed under his breath and dropped the manacles, moving quickly to stand behind the door. She gripped her dagger tightly as the footsteps came closer.

The sounds stopped just outside the door, and they sat silent, waiting. Finally, the door flew inward, slamming Allan against the wall as a body fell heavily into the room. Marian let her breath out in a rush as she examined it. Covered in blood and bruises and scraps of black leather that looked like they had been chewed by a nest full of rats, the body was barely recognizable as Guy. Eyes wide, she could only stare for a few minutes before jumping up to help him. As soon as she rose, she was jerked back into her seat by her chains.

"Allan," she hissed, "help Guy."

Allan hesitantly approached the bloody figure before picking up a clenched fist to check his pulse. As he moved the fingers uncurled and a small key fell out.

"The key… that's why he came back…to bring the key," Allan muttered, scooping it up and bringing it over to unlock her.

As soon as her hands were free, she rushed to Guy, looked him over, tried to see if he was seriously injured. He was covered in an impenetrable film of blood and sweat and something… else. Smothering her revulsion, she grabbed a basin of water from the table, pulled a sheet off of the bed and began sponging his skin.

Allan grabbed her arm. "Marian, we should go."

Outraged, she replied, "And leave him here? He will bleed to death, and if he doesn't, the sheriff will kill him!" She ripped her arm out of his grasp and began sponging again, ignoring Allan where he sat propped against the wall. She heard him mutter something that sounded like "…and maybe he'd rather be dead…" before she stopped listening.

Guy was covered in scratches and long slices, most of which were shallow, but several on his arms were worse and bleeding steadily. The scariest was a deep cut on his throat which was still pumping out blood. She shivered. _Why would he cut there_…_was Vaizey actually trying to…kill him?_ She wrapped his arms tightly, but kept pressure on the neck wound with her hand as she tried to roll him over.

"Allan, help me! I need to examine his back." There was no reply, and when she looked up at Allan, she saw that his face was set in that strange inward stare again and, this time, tears were rolling down his cheeks. She quickly looked away and continued tugging at Guy until he finally flopped over onto his stomach. She started sponging the blood off of his shoulders, pleased to see that there were not as many cuts on his back. She remained pleased until she uncovered the bruises. There were layers and layers covering his back, buttocks and thighs, the oldest a barely-visible yellow overlaid with shades from green to a fresh, raw maroon. She swallowed when she realized why his clothing was so remarkably – not in the way - of her sponging. She swallowed again at what the layers of bruising meant – this was not the first time Guy had protected her. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she thought about what his boat trip – if not his whole life - must have been like. A sob choked her throat as she looked up at Allan, and saw that he, too, was sobbing as he stared at Guy's bruises. "Allan, we are leaving _now_. And we are taking Guy with us."

"But Robin…"

"I don't care what Robin thinks. We don't even know if he is really alive."

Allan just sat, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of Guy. Marian decided to try a more direct strategy. "Allan, come here and roll him back over." He crawled over and pulled at Guy. Marian kept pressure on Guy's throat as he settled onto his back. "Ok, let's think," she said, "what will we need to take with us? Guy will need more clothes, we will need money, and weapons wouldn't hurt either."

"How about horses? Dunno how we're going to move him anywhere," Allan added.

Marian glanced at him, relieved that he was finally showing signs of life. "Yes, we'll take the horses," she agreed. "Is it safe to say the sheriff will be… incapacitated… for a little while at least?"

"Probably… I guess," Allan said.

Marian sighed; he was not going to be much help after all. "I will stay here with Guy, and you go into the other chamber and find the money." Glancing at Allan again, she realized that he was in no state to face the sheriff, incapacitated or not. "Never mind, you will take this cloth and keep pressure on Guy's neck, while I go find the money. Give me Guy's claw."

She tucked her dagger into her hair, and clutching the claw in her hand, she tiptoed back down the hall to the next chamber. She pushed it open with her foot before darting inside, dagger at the ready. As she quickly scanned for danger, she was relieved to see the sheriff passed out on the bed. _A bed with red sheets, how odd_ she thought, her gaze flickering around the room_._ A moment later, she looked back at the bed and felt sick as she realized that the bed was red with blood, Guy's blood, soaking through the mattress and dripping onto the floor. _How much blood had he already lost? What if he…_ Shaking the thought off, she began searching for a likely looking chest or bag. Finally, she found what she was looking for and, looping the bag over her shoulder, walked toward the door. At the last minute, she remembered Guy's slashed clothing and looked around the room a second time, located Guy's bag, and, taking that as well, left.

When she got back to her room, she hurriedly began pulling clothes out. She found three black shirts and another pair of black leather trousers. _Of course, what else did I expect, _she thought as she handed the clothes to Allan. She packed a few necessities into another bag as Allan dressed the larger man. She kept her eyes averted, not needing a reminder of the horrible bruising covering his back.

When Allan was done, she came over and scrutinized Guy's neck wound. It seemed to have slowed down, but was still bleeding. She tied a bandage around it and sighed. It would have to do.

"Ok, you get his arms, I'll grab his legs," she said. Allan smirked and looked at her skeptically, but did as he was told. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Marian was mentally cursing the unconscious man, cursing those shoulders that kept bumping the walls and all that leg that was turning out to be unbearably heavy, even cursing that long neck that meant his lolling head bumped every step on the way down.

By the time they got him out of the inn and onto a horse, she was completely exhausted and incredibly hungry. She thought longingly of the platter Allan had dropped onto the floor. Ignoring her body, she jumped onto her horse and dug her heels in. Guy's horse snorted and rolled its eyes, unsettled by the dead weight on its back, but she just pulled it along behind her, feeling confident and satisfied now that they were finally leaving.

Feeling confident, that is, until she heard Allan behind her.

"Umm, Maz, where are we headed anyway?"


	59. Into the Lion's Den

**A/N: **Still with us? We're just about to change history and we'd love to hear what you think of our alternate 2x13... (BTW, Team Lavender is our name for when we all write a chapter collectively.)

**Summary**: Will Much and Carter welcome the gang with open arms when they finally arrive at the king's camp?

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, Robin, Legrand, Little John, Will/Djaq, King Richard  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre**: gen, angst  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Nine: Into the Lion's Den**  
by  
**Team Lavender**

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Stars faded as dawn greeted the outlaws and their guide, Bassam. They'd left under cover of darkness from the warmth of the pigeon handler's home and slipped unnoticed through the streets of Acre. Deserted alleyways and gloomy passages had given way to the vast desert as they headed northeast from the city. There was nothing here save a small patch of wooden crosses where Crusaders now slept forever and an abandoned village that sat stark upon the landscape.

John noticed that Will seemed overly protective of Djaq as they made their way up one more rise. His arm was on her waist one moment, his hand in hers the next, tugging her along though his own feet dragged in the sand. It was certainly nothing like walking through Sherwood, where leaves might cover rocks, or tree branches might trip you. He'd never realized that sand, which slipped through fingers like water, could prove just as tricky to traverse as the forests of England.

Bassam and Robin stopped at the top of the hill. The others drew up beside them. Legrand's deep laugh boomed out at the welcome sight. Will and John exchanged a glance. Small armies they had seen; massive encampments like this - hundreds of tents, camels, mules, horses, and wagons - suddenly brought the war home to them.

Djaq shivered and squeezed Will's hand. Despite the suffering the Crusaders brought, she trusted Robin to convince his king that the time for fighting was over.

"There." Bassam waved his hand toward the desert floor. "Your king's camp."

Robin extended his hand in thanks. "Shukran, Bassam."

The old man turned to Djaq as the outlaws began their trek down the hill. "Does he understand flight, the pale one?"

"Who?" A coy smile lit Djaq's face. "Yes." She nodded. "I think he does."

"You have my blessing." Bassam wrapped his arms around Djaq and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

She turned and caught up with Will. Sliding her hand into his, she pressed her head against his arm. New life stirred within her womb. Her child...Will's child..._their_ child...would know peace.

~~~O~~~

Legrand was in high spirits as they approached the Crusader's camp. He broke away from the outlaws just as they reached the perimeter.

"I'll be right back, _mes amis_," he called back to them as he strode over to the Guard's store tent and tore back the flap at the entrance, ducking inside. It took his eyes a second to get used to the darkness before he spotted the man sitting inside. "Carbonnier! How are you?"

The tent's occupant looked up in shock.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, man! It's been less than a year!" Legrand laughed. "Where are my things?"

The dark haired man pointed shakily to several chests in the corner. "We...we were going to send them back..."

"Back? Back where? I was always returning here...you know that." Legrand opened one of the chests and rummaged through it. He pulled out a long white Templar tunic with the Royal Guard insignia on the front and a matching cloak. "Aha!" He took off his dark green tunic, slipped the white one on over his armour and fastened the long cloak around his shoulders. "Much better! Now I really feel like I'm home!"

He turned and grinned at the other man as he picked up his staff again. "Can't stay - I must talk to the king, but I'll be back shortly to collect the rest - good to see you again!"

"You...you, too, Legrand..." the other man stammered, still lost for words.

~~~O~~~

"My name is Robin of Locksley and these are my friends, the king's loyal subjects," the noble-turned-outlaw told one of the soldiers.

"More than that," Legrand added as he caught up with the outlaws. "Lord Locksley served along side me in the king's private guard. I can vouch for him personally."

John's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when he saw Legrand in the same regalia as the other knights. His tunic and cloak had been carefully stored during his absence and, fresh on, they were noticeably cleaner than most of the others around them. His height alone meant Legrand would have stood out in any crowd, but the overall effect made it hard for John to tear his gaze away from the tall Frenchman.

Djaq noticed John's reaction and nudged him in the ribs. "My patient looks good in his uniform, no?" she teased.

"Um, yes. He looks very..." John paused for a moment. "Noble," he finally said, sadly. He hunched his shoulders, nervously tugged at the scarf around his neck and pulled his jacket closer, trying to disguise his lack of a shirt.

Djaq realised he was doing the thing he often did in company of trying to make himself look smaller. She frowned as she saw she'd made him uncomfortable, which had not been her intention.

"We have urgent business with the king." Robin's voice was confident, determined. From his tone a casual observer could not doubt his right to be there, even though he wore no uniform.

"Saving his life actually!" Legrand grinned.

The soldiers looked at Legrand with a slightly confused expression but waved them all through.

Legrand frowned but then his face brightened again as he pointed to a tent several hundred yards away. "Look, John!" his voice rang out. "The king's tent!"

"Robin!" Carter rushed down the hillside, but came to a sudden halt as he spotted Legrand. His face paled and his mouth opened in surprise.

"Carter!" Robin said, wrapping his arms around the blond soldier.

Carter stirred and shook himself as if waking from a dream.

Legrand eyed him carefully, puzzled by his reaction. They had never been close, but why would the English knight be so stunned to see him there? First Carbonnier, then the guards at the camp entrance and now Carter. Were none of his old comrades pleased he was back? Something about the whole situation felt wrong.

"We must talk," Carter said quietly in a tone that was calm but foreboding, dark and cold like the desert at night. His words did nothing to allay Legrand's sense of unease.

"Yes, with the king," Robin replied. He looked around the camp, suddenly fearful that something had happened to his former manservant. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Where's Much?"

Will pointed toward the king's tent. "Is that--?"

Djaq smiled and nodded. The manservant she remembered was gone. Their friend wore the red tunic of a squire. He stood straight and confident. The scruffy beard that warmed his face in Sherwood was trimmed back neatly. In his new clothes, without his old ragged cap and with his blond locks shorn short he looked every inch the noble knight in training.

"Much?" John said.

The former outlaw turned, his eyes widening when he spotted the gang. Sucking in a breath, he forced himself to finish his conversation with the Saracen messenger. "Shukran, Mahmoud. _The king will consider this offer, but to make it worth your while, secure more pack animals for His Majesty's army and you shall be rewarded well for your efforts. We'll await your master's response._ As-salamuh Alai-kum."

He turned from the messenger and hurried over to where Carter stood with Robin and the others. The quickness in Much's step masked both his joy and fear.

"Squire Much - congratulations on your new position! _Ut prosim_!" Legrand shouted at him.

"What does that mean?" John asked Djaq.

"It means--"

"It means _that I may serve_," Much interrupted. "It's the motto of the king's private guard." He extended his hand to the French knight. "Thank you! We'd heard you were dead, Legrand."

"So _that's_ it!" Legrand grinned, greatly relieved to have his puzzle answered. "Does this hurt?" He pounded his palm against Much's arm.

"Ow!" Much gave an exaggerated cry. He smiled at Carter. "He's definitely not dead!"

Robin's face lit up. "You know Latin now?" he said as he pulled his old friend into a hug.

"And Arabic!" Djaq added, impressed.

"As if listening to him go on in English wasn't bad enough!" John said, but with a smile as he clapped Much on the shoulder.

"It's good to hear your voice, Much, no matter what you're speaking!" Will said.

Carter saw the great joy in Much's face at being reunited with his friends, especially Robin. He also saw the frowns on the faces of those round about them. Too many assumed the rumours about Robin and the gang were true. Carter desperately wanted to reach out to Much - to protect him from the reactions of their comrades but also to calm his own jealousy.

"And before I forget..." Robin said with the familiar cheeky grin Much had sorely missed. "I believe _this _belongs to you." He reached into his shirt and pulled out...

"My cap!" Much exclaimed, taking it from him, wide-eyed. "But...how in the world... Where did you...?"

"Well done, Robin - now he can't even speak English!" Legrand laughed.

"A certain yeoman who sailed with us from Cyprus thought you might like it back," Robin explained.

"Brooks!" Much turned to Carter with a huge smile. It died almost instantly as he saw the frown on Carter's face and then looked past him toward the crowd gathering around them. His heart sank as he remembered all of Carter's warnings and the promises he'd made him.

Much looked back into the unsuspecting faces of his friends. "It is good to see you. All of you," he said sadly. He suddenly wrapped his arms around Robin. "Run," he whispered. "Get away while you still can. The sheriff--"

"What?" Robin pulled away, confused by Much's sudden change in attitude. "What are you talking about, Much?"

Much looked down at the sand and twirled his old cap nervously in his hands. He'd craved this reunion for months but now he was scared and it was all going horribly wrong. "I'm sorry, Robin. I... I can't talk to you," he said quietly, stepping back away from them.

Robin's face reddened. "You can't...? You think you're _better _than me now do you, _Lord _Much?" He spat out Much's title with disdain.

Legrand placed his hand on Robin's shoulder, warily studying the faces of his former comrades. "Let him explain, Robin," he said calmly.

Much looked from Legrand to his former master, his eyes moist. "No! It's not that, Robin. The sheriff's message--"

"I took you into my home!" Robin shouted as he shrugged Legrand's hand off, every ounce of his energy focused on Much. "You had nothing but the rags on your back! I gave you food, shelter..." He glared at his friend. "This! This is how you repay me! Refusing to acknowledge me when I need your help!"

"How I--?" Much shook his head vehemently. "Robin, Carter and I have been upholding your name these last few months after Vaizey's--"

"If that were true, then why are you talking to me as if I am your enemy?"

"Leave it, Much." Carter placed his arm between Robin and his squire.

"But I must explain!" Much protested.

"He will find out soon enough." Carter's tone was firmer this time. He wasn't sure what might transpire, and his only thoughts were how he might protect Much.

Robin scowled at Carter as he pulled Much away from the group. "And you! Turning my best friend!" Robin spat. "I should have run him through myself rather than send him off with a Wilton!"

Much's eyes clouded and he half-turned, unable to look at his former master as Robin turned his anger on Carter.

"You're nothing but a foolish crying coward, just like your brother Thomas!" Robin snarled at the former assassin.

Carter froze at Robin's harsh words.

"Robin!" Much cried. "Don't--"

"Better a coward than a traitor any day!" Carter drew his sword and pointed it at Robin's throat. "Leave now or die!"

The other outlaws stepped forward to Robin's side, reacting angrily as Much grabbed his lover's shoulder.

"Carter, stop!" Much shouted. To Robin he said, "He doesn't mean that!"

Robin and Carter glared furiously at one another. The others could see the pain on Much's face, but that wasn't enough to hold back John's growing anger. He scowled at Much. "You have forgotten your friends, Much."

"Just go, Mas... Robin!" Much implored as Carter put down the sword. "There is nothing you can do here."

"Let's go, Robin. Something is not right." John held his leader back as he looked hard at Much and Carter.

"John, I--"

"I can see where your loyalties are now, Much," John interrupted him, eyeing Carter suspiciously.

Robin turned and snorted. "I'll go when we've seen the king. He'll decide what I can and can't do - not a former manservant!"

"Let's hope the king's decision is a well informed one, Robin," Legrand said. He had been watching the crowd as the argument between the former friends had developed. The hostile looks and dark mutterings did not bode well.

The gang headed for the king's tent and the crowd closed behind them, many of them laying hands on sword hilts.

Much paled, the pain of Robin's words replaced by his fear for his friends' lives. "Carter, what can we do? They are not traitors. We both know that."

"Robin must face King Richard, and you, my love, must hold your tongue. They'll learn about the rumours from the king, and perhaps they'll understand why we urged them to leave."

"But--"

Carter held a finger to Much's lips. "Promise?"

Much nodded. This would all be cleared up shortly. The king would listen to reason.

~~~O~~~

The angry voices drifted to the king's pavilion. Richard paid no mind even when he thought he'd heard Carter call 'Robin' and saw him bound down the hill.

James had wandered outside, spotting the squire, Much, in the crowd that gathered. He looked for Locksley, the one familiar face he'd expected to see and nearly choked as Legrand came into view as well. He swallowed back his surprise then hid a satisfied smile - Locksley and his gang were about to meet their fates.

James turned and called back to the king. "We have visitors, Your Majesty."

Richard raised a brow, listening as words carried more clearly on the breeze now. He stepped outside the pavilion as his two former favourites appeared. Full of confidence, he greeted the two men. "Robin of Locksley. And _Legrand_? You certainly look well for a dead man."

"Your Majesty," the two knights said as they fell to their knees.

We have much to talk about! Come," Richard called, smiling at them before turning back into his tent.

Carter tipped his head at Much, whose mouth curled into a crooked grin. Legrand noticed the gesture and took it as a good sign. His respect for Carter was strong despite the altercation with Robin. He valued his opinions and had trusted his judgement when they'd served together. And Richard seemed genuinely pleased to see his former guards. Perhaps their worries had been in vain.

John, Will and Djaq caught up to them and Legrand handed his staff to John before he and Robin followed Richard into his tent. Much and Carter entered behind them.

James took one of the guards aside. "Keep an eye on them," he said, tipping his head towards the three outlaws. The guard nodded and James entered the tent, closing the curtain behind him. He moved to stand by the King's side.

Richard folded his arms across his chest. "Robin."

"Your Majesty, I bring grave news. You received my messages, I trust."

The king's brow furrowed. "I did," he said, his face growing more serious, "and more."

Legrand shifted uneasily. He had served Richard long enough to recognize that tone in his voice. He felt his skin crawl.

Carter had noticed it, too. He watched the king carefully as Robin spoke again.

"Then you'll know the Sheriff of Nottingham and the Black Knights are plotting against you. They are planning to take over England."

James remained impassive though his heart began to pound. He knew what was in the cards, and it was all he could do to hide his amusement as Carter and Legrand picked up on the clues. Much had that eager-to-please look on his face, a look of righteousness that made James want to gag. And Locksley - he was so engrossed with his own ego that he'd failed to see the signs at all.

"That's what you said and I believe you," Richard replied with a knowing look toward James.

"But now the sheriff is coming here to find you and kill you," Robin continued.

"Really?"

There was a sharp edge to Richard's voice that made Legrand squirm. They'd lost this argument before it had even begun. Much seemed to understand what was happening and his face grew pale.

"You have to let me protect you," Robin urged.

"I must allow you to protect me?"

"Yes," Robin replied.

Richard looked past Robin. Disappointment and utter disbelief pained his face as he saw Djaq outside the tent. _They have recruited your most loyal servant to come here. He is a man that you would trust with your life and he travels with a Saracen woman._ Richard's eyes met Robin's again. "Oh, Robin, of all people, you?"

Robin frowned, confused. "Your Majesty?"

"Of all the men who have served me, you were the one I loved most."

"And I have cherished that."

"When I sent you home to England, I thought I was sending a piece of me. I thought you would represent me there."

"In a small way, I think I have."

"Robin, stop it," Richard said impatiently. "I know the truth!"

"What truth?" Robin cried, his voice more concerned as he struggled to understand the king's words. "Your Majesty, you are in danger."

"It is true, Sire!" Legrand insisted.

"And you!" Richard aimed a vicious black look at Legrand. "Turning on my mother whom you are sworn to protect!"

"_What!_ Your Majesty, I nearly _died _saving the Queen Mother from the sheriff!"

"This is Vaizey's doing," Robin added, spotting Much nod in agreement. "He would say anything--"

Richard cut Robin off with an impatient wave of his hand. "And you would call my brother a liar?" he asked.

"Prince John was not there--" Robin shook his head in frustration. "Have you not heard from Queen Eleanor?"

"_Why_, Robin?" Richard's eyes grew fiery. "Have I not done right by you?"

"Yes, you have," Robin shouted. "And I've come here to save you!"

Whatever love Richard once felt for Robin evaporated like water poured on the desert floor. "Still, you deny it," he said, his anger growing. He glowered at Robin and shouted, "You attempted to kill my mother and now you have come here to murder your king!"

Much started to take a step forward but, Carter held him back. "Your Majesty, no," Carter said. "I can vouch for Robin. When I was in England--"

"Quiet!" Richard ordered Carter.

The sounds of a scuffle made the hairs on Legrand's neck stand up. He grew more uneasy as voices outside the tent escalated in number as well as volume. He knew without turning that John, Will and Djaq were being forcibly subdued. He had seen the king's anger aimed at many men before and rarely did things turn out well for those on the receiving end.

Richard stared accusingly at Robin again. "You are a renowned marksman with a bow, are you not?"

"I am," Robin replied.

"Then you could have killed my enemies a thousand times over," Richard argued. "You expect me to believe you would travel to the Holy Land to protect me instead of simply aiming an arrow in Nottingham."

"Your Majesty," Much cried out before Carter could stop him. "We couldn't just shoot the sheriff. We can explain--"

James stepped forward and viciously back-handed Much, a powerful punch that sent the squire to the ground.

Carter unsheathed his sword quickly, its tip menacingly close to James' throat.

The older knight spat, "Carter, your squire still does not know when to hold his tongue!"

"James." Richard glared. "Leave me to dole out punishments to my knights else you will find yourself run through with _my _sword." He turned to Carter as Much found his feet unsteadily. "Put that away."

There was a loud shout outside that was instantly recognisable to those who knew his voice as Little John. Legrand shifted restlessly, then suddenly tore out of the tent.

"Someone go after him." Richard sighed. He knew what he had to do next and it gave him no joy at all.

With a jerk of his head, Carter ordered Much to follow Legrand. Their friends would need protection from the mob growing outside.

Richard turned back to James. "Assemble the men. Execute them."


	60. Manipulation

**A/N**: The preceding chapters most important to a full understanding of this include chpts 58, 51, 49, and 44, but you should, of course, read all of them :)

**Summary:** Do Marian, Allan and Guy escape the Sheriff's evil clutches? A clue, NO!

**Characters/Pairings**: Marian, Guy, Allan, Vaizey  
**Mentions:** Robin  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** melodrama...implied slash  
**Disclaimer:** BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Sixty: Manipulation**  
by  
**perteltote**

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"Be quiet, Allan, let me think!" Surprisingly, Allan was quiet. The only reasonable explanation was that Allan must have his mouth full of food that he didn't want to share with her. How could he? He knew that she hadn't eaten in three days. She spun around in her saddle, harsh words about the evils of selfishness ready on her tongue only to stop with a gasp of shock.

Vaizey was behind Allan with a sword at his throat! He cackled with glee. "Thought I was asleep, didn't you Marian? Thought you and the boy would just waltz out of here with all the money and Gisborne...a clue, no!"

Marian tensed in her saddle and thought of spurring her horse -- she and Guy could still get away safely and return for Allan later. Vaizey clucked his tongue at her and shifted his eyes off to the side. Marian followed his gaze to the point of an arrow glinting in the moonlight. She swallowed convulsively as she identified several of the Saracen guards Vaizey had hired upon their arrival in Acre.

"That's right, missy, out of the saddle! Now."

She looked at Allan, and he shook his head slightly as Vaizey pressed the sword tighter against his throat. Marian slid slowly off of the horse, hands raised where Vaizey could see them, as the man forced Allan down to his knees. The sheriff waved guards in to hold him there, then stepped away while watching the kneeling Allan with a lascivious eye. When Allan dropped his gaze, Vaizey strutted over to Marian, eyed her closely before running his hands lewdly down her body and pulling Guy's dagger away from her waist. He pulled the second dagger out of her hair and, as it tumbled down around her shoulders, he lifted a fat lock to his nose. She couldn't help flinching as he leered at her and inhaled the scent with relish.

He eyed her up and down again before smiling at her sweetly and then barking, "Guards! Bind her!" He watched intently as they pulled her wrists behind her, "Ah, much better, make sure you pull that tight... mustn't let this pretty bird escape, and if she's in a little pain as well... so much the better."

He waved the guards to drag them away before commanding the rest to carry Guy back upstairs. As they pulled Guy's motionless body off of the horse, Marian began to struggle furiously against her bonds. "No! What are you doing with him? You leave him alone!"

Vaizey cackled in amusement, then moved closer, close enough for her to feel his breath on her chest.

"Feeling protective are we? Well don't. You'll never understand him, you'll never be able to give him what he needs... and don't worry, I won't do anything I haven't done before." He laughed again and ran a hand gently through Guy's hair as he watched to see her reaction. She struggled unsuccessfully to keep the revulsion out of her face and he giggled maniacally.

Riding an overwhelming surge of protective rage, she ignored Allan's pleading gaze, and spat, "You bastard! How old was he when you found him? How old was he the first time you...? I'll kill you if you hurt him again!"

"Oh, my, yes, you are getting attached...well, we'll have to fix that," Vaizey said while idly running his thumb along Guy's jawline. She gathered her breath to reply, but as her mouth opened he snapped, "Get her out of my sight. NOW!"

~~~O~~~

At first light, Marian blinked and opened her eyes. With relief, she felt Allan, still warm against her back where the sheriff's men had dumped him. She shifted on the lumpy mattress, trying not to wake him. She winced as the metal of the manacles dug into skin already raw from weeks of being shackled. Rolling awkwardly up into a sitting position, she glanced around the small room. It was little better than a storeroom, dust and bits of trash covering every surface. There was nothing that looked to be of any use and only one window, small and barred. She looked back at Allan; he was bruised from the rough handling of the night before, but appeared fine otherwise. His hands were tied behind him, and the bonds looked painfully tight -- she could see the flesh spilling out between dark loops of rope. She scooted further away and carefully rose to her feet. Forcing her bound legs to work in tandem, she hopped over to the only piece of furniture in the room aside from the bed they had been left on.

Settling back in the chair she sighed in relief -- at least now if anyone came in she could face them with a little dignity, but she needn't have worried. The light outside the window changed from grey to white to golden yellow, and still, no one came.

Eventually, Allan woke with a snort and a muffled curse. He wriggled into a seated position, and his eyes roamed around the room before settling on her. He stared for a moment, and as she stared back, a small smile crept onto his face.

"Now this is about the worst, innit?"

Marian felt the corners of her own mouth twitching and nodded agreement -- things were so bad, they were almost... laughable. She stifled a small giggle as Allan rolled his eyes.

"Not bein' funny, but the only way things could get worse would be..."

At that moment, the door burst open, and Vaizey came bouncing in. "Wonderful, wonderful... you're both awake." He favored them with a decidedly unpleasant smile before continuing, "Can't wait to tell you our, and, by that, I mean my plans."

Marian balled her hands into fists as she watched the odious little man. She caught Allan shaking his head at her out of the corner of her eye, but the words burst out of her mouth anyway. "What have you done with him? Where is he?"

"Who? Allan? Why...he's right here next to you, my dear. Didn't you see him?" He giggled as she felt her face flush red with anger.

"Oh, you mean Gisborne?" The amusement left his face as he crossed the room, a menacing snarl taking its place as he grabbed her arms and wrenched them painfully against the manacles.

Stifling a yelp, she rose to a crouch as Vaizey twisted.

"You listen to me," he hissed. "You are a two-faced, fickle, leper of a woman, and he will never care for you again -- I'll make sure of it."

Even twisted in pain as she was, she straightened to her full height and stared right back into Vaizey's eyes as she spoke. "You perverted sadist! However long you've been demeaning him with your twisted desires, it's over! He's seen the truth, and he won't listen to your lies anymore!"

Surprised and somewhat taken aback by her vehemence, Vaizey dropped her arms and stepped away. He studied her carefully with narrowed eyes as she stood panting with unsatisfied rage.

"Hmm... yes... interesting. I believe the poor boy was right after all... there is something between you." He tapped his lip in thought. "Well, I'll disabuse you of that quickly enough... you think I force my desires on him, do you? Poor Guy, the lost little boy, the unwilling participant? A clue! No! What you don't understand about Gisborne is that he likes it." She shook her head in denial as he leaned in closer, dropping his voice to an intimate whisper. "Oh, yes... in fact, I'd say he loves it." Vaizey giggled again and then abruptly turned to face Allan. "Just ask your friend Allan how much our... Gizzy... likes it. Oh, yes, he knows quite well."

She stared at Allan in horrified disbelief as he dropped his gaze, refused to meet her eyes. "No, it's not true... I won't believe it," she said, shaking her head weakly.

"Oh, yes... yes, it is. Quite. True. And do you know who else could have told you about Gizzy's proclivities? Just think of your father, dear old Sir Edward... all those lonely nights in the dungeon... all that time Sir Guy was looking after him... what do you think he was so eager to escape from in the end, hmmm?"

Vaizey cackled in glee as she collapsed back into her chair. "Mmmm, yes... any fond messages you'd like me to give Gisborne when I see him... No? What a surprise!" He flashed her a toothy grin and snarled, "Enjoy the rest of your life -- a small hint -- there's not much of it left." He slammed the door on his way out.

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Marian stood and hopped back across the floor to sit next to Allan.

"Allan", she said reluctantly, "you have to tell me. Is it true?"

He sat staring at the toes of his boots before slowly raising his eyes to hers. "Giz and me... we... yes, it is, we did."

She involuntarily flinched away in disgust as her expression hardened.

Allan blanched, and his eyes grew large as he took in her expression. He pulled back slightly, not wanting to force a touch that she clearly found revolting, but then she leaned back against him and laid her head gently against his shoulder.

"No, Allan, I don't think any less of you... it's just that Guy... after having that done to him, how can he do it to other people? How could he? Doesn't he know it's a sin?" Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek and she buried her face in his chest. "My father! Allan, my father! How could he?" She began sobbing as she choked out, "He promised me! He promised me he would look after him!"

Allan felt hot moisture seeping through his shirt and wished that his hands were free so that he could calm her.

"Marian... Marian, hush... you know it's not like that with Guy. It was never like that. It was... he is..." Allan hesitated before continuing, "He can be kind and gentle and... it was... yeah... sometimes it was loving, and I always thought if you and he, I mean... well... he loves you, you know? He could've made you happy."

Marian jerked upright and turned her tear-streaked face up to him.

He flinched at the fury in her eyes.

"How can you say that? How can you even think it! He is a sodomite and a liar, and what about my father? How could he do that to my father?" She stared at him, her eyes demanding, her hair wild.

He hedged, "He was good to your father. I saw it, I did! Always bringing him blankets 'n extra food 'n such. I never saw anything bad like that with your father."

Marian, sharp as always, caught the omission. "But what about other prisoners? What did you see with other prisoners?"

Allan looked away again, unable to meet her eyes because he didn't want her to read what he had seen, what he had done.

"Allan? Tell me."

He sighed, feeling his own culpability weighing on him like one of the fat purses Guy had used to pay him. Finally, he spoke reluctantly and with his eyes still averted. "Well, you know... it's like this.... There's lots of bad stuff as goes on in the dungeon, and that particular bad stuff is just part of the deal, innit it? But Marian... come on, you can't take Vaizey's word, can you? You don't know..."

He heard her breath hiss out. "I will never forgive him."

She lay down and turned her face to the wall; the conversation was over.

~~~O~~~

Guy's eyes fluttered open. Blinking, he focused on the ceiling, on one particular large crack that slashed across the room. Thought slowly returned to his bleary mind. Marian! Groaning, he forced his body up to sitting, saw bandages covering his arms and felt another, tight around his neck.

He was in her room, in her bed, he could still smell her in the blankets, and it was wonderful, heavenly, even. His brow crinkled in confusion, and he raised a hand to his head. What was he doing here? Straining, he was able to recall opening the door to the room he shared with Vaizey... Vaizey! He had wanted to...! He had...! Experimentally, Guy clenched his fist. Well, he was alive. Still.

The door creaked and he looked frantically for a weapon, and seeing nothing of use, he tried to push himself up to standing. His head spun and his trembling legs refused to support him. He collapsed back onto the bed as the door slid open and a person -- a Saracen? -- came in. Seeing him awake, the man rushed over and began pushing him back down in the bed while babbling in Arabic. Guy snarled and tried to resist, but the man easily overpowered him. Holding him down, the man looked into his eyes, and obviously searching for words, began to speak in barely comprehensible French. "Doctor... I am doctor... very ill... you lie down, yes?"

Guy reluctantly nodded agreement -- he would not get far at the moment anyway. Relief filled the man's face as he released his grip on Guy's shoulders and stood.

"Food, very important, you eat." He clapped his hands and shouted. Guy watched warily as a second Saracen brought a tray of food in. The doctor said, "Yes, you eat. I go," and unceremoniously left the room.

Guy eyed the flat bread and yellowish goop with distaste. He had never liked the food here. He was still frowning down at it when he was surprised by hot breath on the back of his neck. He started, and quickly tried to rise again, but hands on his shoulders gently pushed him back. The hands began to slide, caressing his shoulders and threading through his hair. He knew even before the man spoke -- Vaizey.

"My dear boy, so glad you're finally awake. Things have been so terribly, stultifyingly, incomprehensibly dull without you or your pets. I thought that I might die of boredom -- these Saracens are absolutely no fun at all." The hands started a slow slide down his chest, and Guy quickly reached up to grab them.

"My Lord, please, I am... indisposed... why am I here? Where is Marian? Why have I not seen Allan?"

Vaizey quickly withdrew his hands in annoyance and moved around to perch on the edge of the bed, facing Guy. He spoke carelessly, but kept a sharp eye on Guy's face.

"Oh, your pets? Didn't I say? They've run off together -- straight to Hood, I imagine. I suppose they always did like him better..." His eyes sparkled as loss and anger filled Guy's face. "Yes, don't know what they see in that pathetic do-gooder that they don't see in you... heroism? Selflessness? A sense of humour perhaps?" A cruel smile curled his lips as Guy fisted his hands in the blankets and stared down at them. "I'm surprised you're so concerned about them... they were in such a hurry to see Hood, I'm afraid they left you here to die. Messy business, that, blood everywhere. This physician is costing an arm and leg, but I'm not worried -- it'll come out of your wages."

Amazingly, despite the prodding, Guy did not explode into rage, just continued staring down at his hands. He even managed to keep his face carefully expressionless as Vaizey reached up to stroke his hair again.

Vaizey dropped his voice to a whisper. "You should have known, Guy; you should have remembered all the other betrayals... you know you only have me... no one else to depend on... no one else at all. You know no one else could ever love a villain like you... but I love you, Guy, and I will reward you for your services. Are you ready to prove your loyalty?"

Guy remained still, impassive, and Vaizey reached his free hand down to the hilt of his dagger as the silence dragged on. As he eased it slowly out of the scabbard, Guy suddenly turned his head back up and spoke, eyes glittering with some indeterminate emotion.

"I will... I am ready."

~~~O~~~

Vaizey lounged in his room, feet propped on the windowsill. He wiggled his toes in the sunlight and sighed in contentment. Yes... all was as it should be. Marian would hate Gisborne to her last breath, and he would make sure that came soon -- preferably in front of Hood. Though Hood was still alive, Vaizey found himself almost... pleased... with the turn of events. He'd loved watching the leper squirm while the bidders had inspected her, but this would be even better. He'd thought of gutting her in front of the outlaw ever since he'd met him; he had known the man still loved her the first time he had seen them together. He chuckled to himself. Seriously, how blind could Gisborne be? Vaizey had seen their deaths in his dreams many times since Hood had killed his Davina.

A pigeon in the crate behind him cooed, interrupting the pleasant vision of his hands tightening around Marian's neck. His fingers twitched. No! He mustn't play with the birds, there were messages to carry yet. He mustn't hurt them -- at least not until after he was sure they were no longer of use.

And Gisborne -- the clod -- would nothing convince the man that his so-called 'love' was hopeless? He was still unsure of his loyalty despite all that had passed; Gisborne was becoming much better at hiding his emotions. Well, he was still useful, regardless. Vaizey smiled to himself -- and useful in so many ways. Wiggling his toes again, he let his thoughts drift to Allan, locked up in the small room below. The boy was still so... impressionable. Well, compared to Gisborne anyway. And that bleating leper! Vaizey had never seen anyone so naive! He giggled, he would have to fix that, and soon, before he killed her.

Later, once the sun had sunk below the horizon, Vaizey drifted down towards the basement room, but not before dropping in on Guy to see that the man was once again sleeping. He smiled at the idiot's unconscious form; no heroics this time. He picked up a tray of food on the way down; they had been given nothing since he had captured them, and that would make them... pliable. Chortling with glee, he tipped an envelope of a powdered mixture into one of the wine goblets -- Allan would be more than pliable now, but none for Marian. He wanted the girl to remember.

~~~O~~~

The next morning, Allan woke suddenly, eyes snapping open in unfocused panic. He stirred uneasily and grimaced in disgust as he felt the sheets sticking to his face in a puddle of drool. He blinked several times trying to clear his vision; his head was crowded with the leftovers of some right disturbing dreams and he felt an urgent need for some distraction. He shuddered as one particularly harrowing detail drifted to mind, and then, shockingly, felt a warm body snuggle closer. Oh shit. Or were those vague mental images actually memories?

His last clear memory was of Vaizey giving him a goblet of wine to 'relax' him. Shit. Oh shit. Oh SHIT. Marian! He looked around the room wildly, ah, there she was. He let his breath out in a silent whistle as he looked her over. She was asleep, still bound to the chair in the corner, her body sagging against the ropes. Fully clothed, thank God.

So the bastard had made her watch the whole thing. He could barely remember begging, pleading, groveling, to let it stop at that. Shit. He had pretty much promised his soul to Vaizey last night.

He shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed, and clenched his jaw at the too familiar pain. Bad, but better than last time. He would be able to walk. Maybe. Probably. He felt a sudden twinge in his left arse cheek and gasped in horror as it triggered a memory he'd certainly rather forget. He clapped his hand over the pain and felt... No... it wasn't... it couldn't be... he slowly opened his hand to reveal... IT WAS! The diamond studded tooth glinted in the light, seemed to laugh at him before he flung it away in disgust.

Vaizey. He may have promised to do anything the man wanted, but Allan A Dale had never been known as a man of his word, and once he had Marian away safe...


	61. Into the Fire

**Summary**: Takes place during 2x13. Richard lets the desert decide...

**Characters/Pairings**: Much/Carter, Robin, Legrand, Little John, Will/Djaq, King Richard, James  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genre**: gen  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

_Previously, from the King's camp near Acre: __  
__  
_"Assemble the men," King Richard ordered coolly. "Execute them."

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-One: Into the Fire****  
**by  
**Team Lavender, perteltote and JAGNikJen**

---------

"What?! Your Majesty--"

Richard's fiery eyes met Carter's. There would be no argument.

Robin had witnessed the king deliver death sentences before, but for one moment, he seemed caught off guard. Incredulous, Robin's gaze shifted from the king to Carter then grew cold. Two soldiers prodded him into the blinding midday sun as orders rang out from the pavilion.

Bowing sharply to the king, Carter followed James outside. Will and Little John were physically restrained at sword point by several guards. Much appeared to be urging calm, speaking to Djaq, straining under the glare from John's narrowed brow.

"Squire Much!" Carter shouted.

Much turned as the guards shoved Robin down the stairs. "Rob--" A look from Carter made him hold his tongue.

Robin's eyes betrayed a look of anger and confusion. Much seemed to have changed so much under Carter's watchful gaze, and his words - and the king's - hinted at dark and ugly lies. He felt abandoned by his old friend.

Legrand, who'd run from the king's pavilion moments earlier, had not made it very far. A dozen knights surrounded him, many of whom he'd called friends, many of whom he'd fought beside.

"Bastard," one the Templars cried.

"You would kill the Queen Mother!" another shouted at him.

Two guards seized Legrand and bound his hands. He was shocked by his former comrades' accusations and barely resisted. "No! It's a mistake..." He looked desperately at Robin who'd been jostled toward Will, Djaq and John.

John struggled until the tip of a sword actually touched his neck, making Legrand's blood run cold.

Legrand was so distracted by his concern for his friend that he didn't even see the first punch coming. He staggered backwards and disappeared in the middle of a crowd of angry knights.

Reluctantly, Much joined Carter on the pavilion next to James. "How can this be happening?" he whispered. "We were supposed to clear Robin's name."

Carter glanced sidelong at James. The older knight smirked at Robin and his gang, his face filled with contempt. Carter pursed his lips. His hand found the hilt of his sword, and he straightened, his eyes on the crowd at the bottom of the steps. "Quiet, squire. Just be still."

"But...but..."

Carter brushed Much's hand. Robin caught the gesture and glared, but softened when Richard appeared outside the tent.

"Stop this!" the king ordered, striding towards the commotion. "This is not conduct befitting men of your rank!"

The small crowd parted to reveal Legrand on his knees at its centre. His lip was cut, he had several bruises to his face and the emblems of the Royal Guard had been torn from his tunic.

Legrand looked at the king as he rose unsteadily but unaided to his feet, struggling to keep his balance with bound hands. "I...apologise for...my appearance, Your Majesty."

Richard looked at the assembled knights still muttering and casting dark glances at the tall Frenchman. "I am very disappointed, gentlemen. To attack a man who is unable to defend himself, no matter the crimes he is accused of - this is not the standard I expect from my knights!" He turned to his former guard. "I'm sorry this has happened, Legrand."

"As am I, Your Majesty. You know I have always loved you and your mother. That has not changed - and never will."

Richard looked at him sadly. "No, Guillaume," he said quietly. "I can see your heart is no longer mine. You now only love me as your king and not even that, I fear." His eyes found Robin's. "Locksley has indeed bewitched you as he once did me."

_"What?"_ Robin cried.

Legrand frowned. "Robin? Your Majesty, I swear there is nothing but friendship between Robin and me!"

"Don't lie to me, Legrand. Who else could have robbed me of your affections? Did he steal your heart as quickly as he has been stealing my nobles' purses?"

Legrand bit back his answer. He couldn't admit to the king that it was not the noble-turned-outlaw who had claimed his love, but the peasant-outlaw-turned-friend at Robin's side. Richard would never believe it, and even if he should, it would only cause trouble for John, either way.

"Legrand, are you all right?" Djaq looked at him with concern as guards shoved him toward the other outlaws.

"I'm fine, thank you, Djaq. I suspect a few cuts and bruises are going to be the least of my worries."

"Bastards. If I get my hands on them..." John swore.

Legrand sighed. "John - if you thought one of your comrades had tried to kill Robin or betrayed him, what would you do?"

John's thoughts turned to Allan at Gisborne's side and, more distantly, to Roy with a dagger in the dead of night. "You're right. I wouldn't be nearly so gentle."

Much's heart pounded. This was terribly wrong. The king was wrong. He glanced sidelong at Carter who stood straight and indifferent, his face a mask. Surely, his lover knew his own feelings. Much looked around. There were far too many guards, far too many loyal to the king. They would not stand a chance against this crowd. What good would it do if he and Carter were killed now? He had to trust Carter. His eyes met Robin's again, only to find his heart crushed by his former master's angry scowl.

"Your Majesty, these people are innocent. If you must take a life, take mine," Robin implored. "Spare them."

"At last." Richard almost wore a smile and, for one brief moment, Much felt a surge of hope. "That's the Robin I remember. Considering others."

"He is still the Robin you remember," said Djaq.

"Even if others have forgotten him..." John growled with a meaningful glare at Much.

"He saved your life." Legrand searched his sovereign's eyes for one speck of compassion. He knew behind that tough façade there used to be a man who recognized deceit. Had this holy war changed him so much? "Don't you remember that?"

"I cannot grant your wish. You must all be punished. But you once saved my life, and I've not forgotten that. So I'll not take yours. I'll let the desert decide."

"The desert? What does that mean?" Will looked at Djaq. "Decide what?"

James whispered into Richard's ear. Richard threw him a frown and then shrugged.

"Guards!" James shouted. "Take the Saracen woman to my quarters."

"What?" Will shouted. "Djaq! No! _No!_"

One of the soldiers back-handed Will as two others dragged Djaq away. She struggled with her captors, tearing free from one of the men.

"Will!" she cried out, jerking the other back toward the man she loved. Before she could reach him, powerful arms seized her again. She had no choice but to capitulate, but movement near the king caught her eye. Much swiped his brow nervously, but it was the almost imperceptible nod from Carter that gave her hope.

Robin tried to intervene, but realized that any one of the three swords pressed into his back would definitely end any plan to help his gang escape. "Your Majesty--"

"Be grateful that she survives, Robin."

Much's knees grew weak. His strength deserted him. Forcing back tears, he sucked in a breath and hoped he looked braver than he felt.

~~~O~~~

The caravan crawled across the scorching sands. Robin and the gang were on foot, struggling with each step as the blinding sun beat down on them. Legrand and John were forced to carry the poles that would bind them to the desert floor and seal their fate before they saw another sunrise.

Soldiers on horseback prodded the outlaws along. Legrand stumbled, the beams slipping from his grasp.

"Legrand," Robin cried, running toward the Frenchman.

An outstretched blade from one of the guards held Robin back. His face was aghast but he turned to the king. "Please--" he croaked, his throat dry from the desert winds.

Richard nodded, his impatience directed at the soldier.

Robin fell to his knees beside Legrand who lay unmoving. His hands bound, he gently touched the knight's face. "My friend," he said, "this is not the time to rest."

"I am not resting," Legrand whispered, although he still panted from his exertion.

"No?"

"This is called stalling."

Robin chuckled. "Do you have a plan?" he asked quietly.

"What is it you say, _mon ami_?" Legrand struggled to smile. "Not even half a plan."

"Is he still alive?" James called.

Robin nodded, his hand outstretched to his companion. "Let me help you up."

Legrand struggled to rise even with Robin's help. "You still wear your armour." Robin grimaced. "Without water this heat will do you in quickly." Robin pulled Legrand to his feet then turned back to king. "Your Majesty, Legrand struggles with this heavy chain mail."

The king sat tall in the saddle. "He claims to be a member of my private guard, does he not? Is it not every knight's wish to go to the next life fully dressed for battle? Consider this--he will not suffer nearly so long as the rest of you."

Shaking his head, Robin helped Legrand pick up the remaining poles. Once Legrand had them balanced across his shoulders, they plodded forward.

The procession finally arrived at the place of execution. Four dark wooden poles stood there, the only colour on the landscape other than yellow sand and blue sky.

John and Legrand dropped the two poles they were each carrying and sank, exhausted, to their knees. They looked with dismay as one of the knights threw two shovels towards them and gestured to the ground in front of the already installed timbers.

"Dig," said the knight.

When neither man moved, the knight drew his sword and held the blade to Will's throat. "_Dig_."

Robin's gaze shifted from Will to Carter, who appeared indifferent to the proceedings as he alighted from his horse. Robin moved to pick up one of the shovels but another guard stopped him. "You'll get your chance, traitor. We just need to make sure this pair don't get any ideas about breaking free."

John sighed and slowly stood up then offered his hand to Legrand who took it and staggered to his feet.

"Thank you, John."

Much fervently wished Carter had chosen to remain at the camp, but when he accompanied the execution party, Much, as his squire, had no option other than to follow him. He watched as John and Legrand started digging. After a while, he absent-mindedly reached down for his water flask and took a drink. They'd been so long in the Holy Land, it was almost an instinctive movement.

As he put the stopper back in and went to rehang it on his saddle, he noticed John's dark eyes glaring at him. He started guiltily as he realised how callous his actions must look to his former comrades.

"Got everything you need, _my Lord_?" John's growl was even more pronounced due to his dry throat. "Feed your fat face well here, do they? We found a far better cook ourselves." He nodded in Legrand's direction.

"John..." Will tried to intervene.

Much opened his mouth to respond but he could see Carter glaring at him, begging him to stay silent so he closed it again and stared hard at the back of his horse's neck.

"Fights better and doesn't moan as much either," John muttered.

Much couldn't help himself. "I only hear one person moaning now, _badger beard_," he retorted.

"_Badger_...?!" John took a step towards the horses, but the guards stepped in front of him, and he had to content himself with scowling at Much and then returning to his task.

"Much, please," Carter quieted him.

Much went back to staring at his horse, the sky, the other knights, anywhere but at his friends and former master. It suddenly hit him that those might be the last words he ever spoke to John and he swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

By the time the last hole was filled, John and Legrand could barely lift their arms. Robin and Will finished the work as the guards secured John and Legrand to the older, sturdier set of poles further back. When Will and Robin were done, they were tied to the newer poles in front.

Richard dismounted and walked over to face them all.

"This is the same as execution," Will said, not caring he was speaking to his king.

"Yes, but if God wills it, there is always a chance." Richard turned back to Robin. "I'll not remember you this way, Robin. I'll remember you as the hero who once saved my life."

"And I'll remember you as the king who spent too long at war. It's clouded your judgement. You've forgotten your people back home."

"You're right. It is time to stop this fighting. I'm meeting Saladin today. I will make peace with him and then I will go home to England."

"Good. At least my friends and I will have achieved something."

Richard's stern gaze shifted from Robin to Legrand, who was tied to the poles directly behind him.

As if feeling his king's eyes upon him, Legrand briefly held his head up. He said nothing and his eyes dropped away before his head followed.

Even though he had scorned it, Richard had grown so used to seeing Legrand's love for him in his eyes for so many years now, its complete absence shocked him slightly. He turned sadly away, remounted his horse and bid them all a final farewell.

"Good-bye."

Much forced himself to look at Robin. The revulsion on Robin's face gave off as much heat as that rising from the desert sands. Much never felt more helpless. If he showed his true feelings he'd find himself tied up with his friends. He understood that, but it broke his heart to think that Robin doubted him.

Carter stood off to one side, detached and unemotional, his own thoughts cloaked. He couldn't bring himself to look at Much again - he didn't need to in order to feel the pain that no one else could see. With one fleeting glimpse of sadness, he turned and followed his king, leaving his friends to their fate...


	62. Till Death Do Us Part

**Summary**: Allan helps the Sheriff deliver Marian to the desert where the gang wait for death...

**Characters/Pairings**: Will, Robin/Marian, Legrand, Little John, Vaizey, Allan**  
Mentions: **Djaq, Much, Carter**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre: **gen**  
Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Two: Till Death Do Us Part****  
**by  
**Team Lavender**

---------

"How long?" Will asked.

"In this heat? Without water?" Robin shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my love," Will said softly, hanging his head.

"Will?" John called, concerned.

"Heat...getting to...him...already," Legrand said, his mouth so dry he had to force the words out.

Will blinked against the sunlight, his face furrowed in a frown. "If Djaq had stayed with Bassam, she'd..."

"You know she'd never leave you, Will," Robin said. "She wanted to go with us to the king's camp."

John nodded. He hated to think that Will might blame himself for Djaq's imprisonment. "If we can just get through 'til nightfall then--"

"Then what?" Will asked.

"Then it'll be cooler."

"Cooler?" Legrand choked. "It'll be freezing."

"I know," John replied. "But it won't be hot."

"In this heat, John," Robin said. "We don't have until nightfall."

They half-stood, half-hung silently for a time, each contemplating their own regrets.

"Look," Will said, a bit of urgency in his voice. "On that rise? Do you see it?"

Robin looked in the direction of Will's gaze, but he shook his head. "I see nothing, my friend. It is the heat playing with our minds."

Will blinked several more times and then hung his head in disappointment. He'd been sure there was something.

"No, Will's right. I see something, too," John said.

Everyone's heads jerked up and looked toward the distant rise.

"Help!" cried Will. "Over here!"

"_Will_," Robin called. "Save your breath and energy. They cannot hear you from this distance. But it appears as though they're moving this way. Let's just keep an eye on them and if it seems they change direction, then we can all shout out as one."

As a group, they watched the dark spot grow larger as it grew closer.

"Hey, there's more than one someone. Look," exclaimed Will. His arm jerked against the rope as he tried to point.

The dark spots separated into two and then disappeared.

"They're...gone," said Will so softly that Robin barely heard him.

"They've dropped into a small valley," said Robin. "If we're lucky, they'll reappear shortly."

They waited for quite some time and then, all of a sudden, a trio appeared at the top of the dune.

Robin stared hard at the three riders. _Marian!_ He shook his head against the thought. The heat was playing tricks on him, now. There was no way Marian would be--should be--out here in the vastness of the desert.

"It's Allan," called Will.

"And _Marian_," added John.

Robin's heart leaped and then plunged like a stone to the bottom of a pond. _No!_

"And the sheriff!" cried Will.

Robin dropped his head and clenched his eyes shut. _Oh, God, please no...__  
_

Several minutes later, the mismatched threesome came to a halt.

The sheriff chuckled. "Well, well, well...I heard there was to be roasted outlaws for dinner so I brought dessert. Allan, get the leper tied up, would you? Hmmm, now...where to put her?" Vaizey asked. "I know - let's take a _pole_, shall we?" He laughed at his own joke.

Allan slid from his horse and tugged Marian from hers. He caught her weight with a soft _oof_. With a whispered "I'm sorry" in her ear, he set her on her feet.

The sheriff did a double take as he spotted Legrand. "You? Didn't I kill you once already? Hmm... I'd do it again but Richard seems to have spared me the trouble.

With apparent effort, Legrand coldly returned Vaizey's evil stare.

Allan eyed the big blond, wondering who the hell he was anyway, before pushing Marian toward Robin. It was the least he could do. Tie them up together. If he couldn't get back in time, then, least ways, the one thing he could do was... Allan swallowed...let them die together.

Will glared at Allan as he tied Marian's wrists. "So betraying us once wasn't enough for you, was it? Now you're sacrificing Marian to, let me guess, save your own skin?"

"Hey, I'm not the only one. What 'appened to your old friends Much and Carter? Workin' for King Richard, and that's who tied you lot up, innit?" Allan chided them. "Can't very well blame that on me, can you?"

"You're the one working for Vaizey, Allan," Robin snarled. "You're the one who made this whole thing possible."

Allan shuffled his feet uncomfortably but ignored the comment, there was no use in arguing now, but then the rest of the gang started heaping abuse on, too.

"Traitor!" John spat.

"Scum! Don't care about anyone but yourself, do you, Allan?" Will shouted.

With every added voice, Allan hunched further into himself, wondered if maybe this was how Guy had always felt. He looked up and Marian caught his gaze, held his eyes steadily. He felt his tension leech out and she nodded; no, at least someone respected what kind of constraints he was operating under. Fuelled by the calm in her eyes, he stood straighter, finished tying her and walked confidently back to Vaizey's side. He hoped he would get a chance to make them all see and understand eventually.

Vaizey strutted back and forth in front of the posts as he pontificated, "...so you see, law and order, and by that I mean force and self-interest, by which I mean me, of course, always wins in the end, no matter how selfless or heroic or hopelessly committed to their precious ideals the rebels, meaning you, may be. And that is for the simple reason that good is stupid, meaning you again, of course. Ah, yes, lovely thought, isn't it? And so...goodbye. I will leave you here on this auspiciously bright day to contemplate your foolish errors, chief of which was ever crossing _me_. Pleasant deaths!" Vaizey swept a flourishing bow to the outlaws before jumping up on his horse, and barking, "Allan! NOW!"

Allan swung up onto his own horse and pulled Marian's behind him. "Well, I'll know where to find ya if I want ya!" he taunted, but when Vaizey turned away, he winked broadly, sowing confusion among his former friends. Encouraged by their consternation, he winked again before turning to follow the sheriff.

The sheriff's evil cackle floated back to them as he and Allan disappeared into the hot blinding light of the desert sun.

"Who's that?" Marian asked, eyeing the blond man hanging across from her.

"That is Legrand," Robin replied. "Private guard to the king and Queen Eleanor and the newest member of the gang."

"Nice to meet you, Legrand. Thank you for helping Robin."

Legrand struggled to hold his head up, sent Marian a weak smile. "Milady," he rasped. Drawing in a deep breath he continued, "What was all that with that...Allan...character? Did he just wink? Twice?" _  
__  
_Still scowling, Will snorted, "He probably had sand in his eye, betraying coward!"

"Will, you know that's not true," Marian scolded. "I'm sure he will come back for us if he can get away from Vaizey."

"Well, no one else is sure," Little John growled. "That little cheat will do anything to save his own skin."

"No! You don't understand! Allan is a good man! He has done...he has protected me! I was there last night when Vaizey...when..." Unable to continue, she lapsed into silence as the rest of the gang shot her questioning looks.

Now it was Robin's turn to snort, "A good man, I'm sure, just like Gisborne."

Marian spluttered and then became quiet at the mention of Guy. Legrand took the opportunity to rasp in pained amusement, "Much, Carter, and now this Allan? What is it with this gang and betrayal?"  
_  
_The silence returned for a few moments before Marian firmly stated, "No, I am right about Allan. He has done some bad things out of necessity, but he still cares about all of you. None of you know what you're talking about, and if you think that Much would ever betray you...well, that just proves that you don't know what you're talking about."

Robin said, "I hope you are right, Marian." He drew in his breath to continue but was interrupted by a low moan as Legrand slumped in his bonds. The exchange seemed to have completely exhausted any life remaining in the big man.

Will looked from the collapsed figure to the sun high above, beating down on them. "We're going to die out here, aren't we?"

John eyed Legrand with concern, and with a heavy sigh, hung his own head. "I want to die in England--in Sherwood." He glanced back at Legrand and then back at the sand. "I want to die in the arms of...my wife...and with my son...John...by my side..."

Will choked on a low sob.

Everyone who could looked at him. Legrand twitched.

"Will, what is it?" asked Marian.

"I'll never see my child." Will's voice cracked though it was more from that thought rather than from the harsh sun beating down on them.

"Child? What are you talking about?" John exclaimed.

Marian smiled wistfully. "Djaq is carrying your child?"

"Do you think he'd hurt a pregnant woman?" Will asked.

Robin shuddered to think what James might do when he discovered Djaq was with child. Perhaps Robin had been wrong to assume that living--even as a whore to that bastard--would be a better fate than dying here on the desert sands.

"Why didn't you say?" John asked, his heart aching for Will and for himself, knowing he might never see his own son again.

"I'm sorry, Will. I wish I'd known," Robin said. "Maybe it would've made a difference."

"It does no good to think about what we might have done - all we have is here and now," Marian said, pressing her head gently against Robin's shoulder. "I think we should make the most of it especially if this is to be our final day on this earth."

"Marian--"

"So say the words then, handsome."

"What words...?" Robin asked, his voice rough, whether from the heat or his distress, she didn't know.

"I, Robin, take you, Marian..."

"Now?"

She heard the doubt and disbelief. Imagined an eye roll, even, and smiled.

She glanced at John, Legrand, and Will. "Of course, now. We have the best witnesses England has to offer."

Legrand grunted.

"What was that?" Marian asked.

Legrand struggled to lift his head, but couldn't quite manage it.

"He's from Aquitaine," John said, looking sad.

"Ah," Marian said. "England and France, then."

Legrand grunted again.

Will, too, looked sad, but gave her a wan smile. "Robin, I'd give anything to spend my last minutes with Djaq--not that I wish this on her, but don't waste your chance."

Robin nodded and took a deep breath. "I, Robin, take you, Marian, to be my lawful wedded wife..."

Marian smiled and sighed, love filling her.

"To have and to hold... For richer, for poorer... for better or for worse..."

Marian looked at her witnesses and watched a tear slip down John's face, evaporating before it reached his beard.

When Robin failed to speak, she sensed his distress, and prompted, "In sickness..."

"I-in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, till dea--" His voice caught. "--till death do us part."

She heard his quiet sniff and her heart broke for him. But she couldn't be sorry that they would finally be man and wife, even if only for hours. She swallowed back her own tears. "I, Marian, take you, Robin of Locksley...master of the bow, champion of the poor, and lord of my heart, to be my lawful wedded husband. I promise to love and to cherish you, for better or for worse, from this day forward, as long as we both shall live."

There was silence for several long moments until Will finally said, "Kiss your bride, Robin."

Marian smiled despite the tears that now filled her own eyes. She turned her head toward Robin as far as she could. "Robin...?"

He pulled in the opposite direction, but she could nothing more than accept his kiss on her temple.

Then they lapsed into silence again and waited for death.


	63. New Beginnings

**Summary**: King Richard did not sentence Djaq to the same fate as the gang. She was not tied up in the desert. Her life was spared...or was it?

**Characters/Pairings**: Djaq, James, Much, Carter**  
Mentions: **Will**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Genre: **drama, angst**  
Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Three: N****ew Beginnings****  
**by  
**RobinFanatic **(with **WastingYourGum **and **DarkenTwisted**)

Djaq turned defiantly as the soldiers shoved her into James' tent. They ignored the glare she shot their way and posted themselves outside.

Time seemed to pass slowly while Djaq waited, and she was almost relieved to hear James approach and dismiss the two soldiers standing guard outside the tent. He pushed the tent flap aside and leered at her. "I am going to enjoy your company as much as Locksley and his gang did. All the sweeter because I know the desert is claiming their traitorous hides."

Djaq swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew the heat - it was both an old friend and an old enemy. She knew, too, that Robin and Legrand would have already seen for themselves their own comrades succumbing to the agony of being roasted alive like a side of meat on a spit. She was glad that John and, especially, Will did not know what lay ahead; the loss of wits, pounding heart, nausea and convulsions before the unnatural sleep leading to death....

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was alive and she had to believe there was a way out - for herself and the child she carried, for her friends…for Will.... She had to get to them before the blazing sun took them - and this Englishman stood in her way. "What are you talking about?"

"Come now, you little Saracen whore." He approached her with a wicked smirk on his face. He wasn't as tall, nor nearly as muscular as King Richard, but he paraded around as if he had power that rivalled his sovereign. "You cannot tell me that Locksley hasn't bedded you. How much did he pay for you?" James thumbed her cheek, his calloused hand sweaty against her skin.

Djaq suppressed a shudder and flashed him a coy look. "I made it worth his silver, my Lord," she said with a smile. "Or should I say King Richard's nobles' silver?" Djaq rested her hand atop his, noticing the ring on his finger. She sucked in a breath. She knew that design - it belonged to the Black Knights.

"Do you recognize the design?" James asked.

Djaq played her finger around the insignia. "In Nottingham," she admitted, knowing that a lie would get her nowhere. _But a twist of the truth…_ "Robin let me wear his--"

"_What!_ Locksley is not a Black Knight!"

"I saw many things while I lived in Hood's camp, my Lord. Things his own men would be shocked to know. Secret meetings at the castle. Meetings with the sheriff."

"The sheriff? Locksley is not--" James frowned, turning away for a moment to consider that Vaizey might be lying to him. The man was unscrupulous. He wouldn't put it past him to rid himself of competition for wealth and land. He certainly was behind the murder of Lord Winchester though he'd blamed Hood for that. What else would he do to consolidate his power?

"Does that matter, my Lord?" Djaq asked innocently. Dragging her hand down James' arm, she was intent on reaching the sword at his waist. His hand found hers before she could grasp the hilt. When he pressed it toward his groin, she knew he'd not realized her intent.

"Sir James?" a voice called from outside the tent as Djaq attempted to fend off his advances.

James scowled at the interruption. "What is it?"

"A message for you, my Lord."

Frustrated, James took a deep breath and released Djaq's hand. He ran a finger along her jaw line then turned and stepped outside. "What?"

"From Poitiers. Another letter--"

James held a finger to his lips then eyed the messenger. "En francais."

"_Another letter from the queen, my Lord_," the messenger said.

James smiled at the young man. "_Would that we all had time to write long missives_."

"_She did wonder why the king had not responded to her news from Nottingham, milord._"

"_What did you tell her?_" James asked, his voice dark.

"_I said I only delivered his majesty's letters, that I was not privy to his thoughts_."

"_Ah, yes. So true_."

"_She directed me to speak with him personally_."

"_Did she?_" James rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze met the younger man's then he pulled a pouch from his belt and retrieved several coins. They clinked as they fell into the messenger's palm. "_There will be ten more like that when you come back tomorrow for the message you will take back to the queen_."

Djaq had her back to James when he returned, pretending to study the sparse trappings of his tent. She turned around as he tossed the letter into a pile of ash in a bowl on the chest that stood at the end of his cot. "A letter?" she asked. "From your family?"

Brow furrowed, James eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "_Do you read?_" he asked in French.

Djaq's French was as good as her English. Not only could she read the language, but she'd understood every word that passed between James and his messenger. She threw James a puzzled look and smiled innocently when he laughed at the silly expression on her face.

~~~O~~~

Much glanced at Carter as the messenger hurried away. The pay-off was a good sign, and one look from Carter confirmed there was something very suspicious about James' meeting.

Carter motioned Much to circle back around the neighbouring tent.

"I knew it," hissed Much when they stopped and Carter translated the conversation. "He's a traitor. I knew there was something off about him. What do we do?"

"I'll tell James that the king is back and has asked us to report to him."

"Would it be better if I did that? The king would send a squire rather than—"

"I'll distract James. You get Djaq. She'll trust you more than me."

Much nodded confidently. "Let's go."

Carter sent him a wink hoping it masked his fear. He could almost smell blood in the air and prayed that neither the king nor his friends would meet untimely ends on this day. James would not make their task easy.

Much crept toward the rear of James' quarters. Voices drifted from the mess tent nearby, their comrades partaking of a noontime meal.

Carter hurried round to the main pathway between tents occupied by the king's closest advisors. He was relieved that the area was deserted. "James," he called, "it is Carter. May I have a word?"

There was a muffled curse from inside the tent. Carter could only imagine what was going through Much's head. It seemed that they were just in time.

Much peeked into the tent. "Psst...Djaq..."

"Much?" she whispered. She spotted him crawling under the side of the tent and a huge smile curled the edges of her lips.

"We're here to rescue you!" He grinned as he looked up at her, his voice just a whisper.

She extended her hand to help him stand. It was a tight squeeze between James' cot and a huge trunk. Much's arm brushed along her body as he got to his feet as she pulled him into a hug.

"Your stomach--it moved!" Much's eyes grew wide with realisation. "Are you-- How long?"

Djaq blushed. "A few months."

"Will knows-- It is Will's, isn't it?"

"Much!" Djaq's dark eyes smiled.

Much felt the baby move again. "That crafty craftsman!"

Outside the tent, Carter's conversation with James grew louder.

"I want the woman." Carter's voice was firm.

"I thought you just shared a bed with your squire, Carter," James sneered, "not whores as well." He pushed past Carter and re-entered his quarters, halting abruptly when he spotted Much. "Well...speak of the devil."

"She is no whore!" Much exclaimed, bristling.

James' brow arced over one evil eye. "_No_?" He looked at Much. "Come now...surely, you had a go at her back in Sherwood?"

Much stiffened with anger. "I did no such thing. She--"

Carter stepped into the tent behind James and said, "--is not yours for the taking."

James glanced over his shoulder, seemingly unconcerned. "She is a Saracen whore. I will have her if I choose. In fact, she will serve me well in many ways. Look at her," he gushed, parading towards Djaq. "Quite the beauty. She'll make quite a good breeder, too, no doubt."

Eyes widening, Much blushed a dark red. He opened his mouth but was too flustered to utter a word. Much's innocence still managed to surprise Carter. He would have thrown his arms around the man and kissed him if Djaq's life wasn't at stake.

Djaq glared at James. "You," she said emphatically, "will _never _touch me!" She barged into him, throwing him off balance, then grabbed the queen's letter from the chest and retreated to Carter's side.

James drew his dagger. "Give that back to me, whore. You'll pay for that insult."

Carter slowly pulled one of his long daggers from its scabbard.

James heard another blade being unsheathed behind him. He remained stone-faced, looking over his shoulder to see the dagger in Much's hand. Drawing himself up, James turned slowly, his eyes darting from one knight to the other. "You would draw weapons to protect a Saracen?"

"These weapons protect my king from traitors like you!" Carter said coolly, his blade pointed toward the older knight's throat.

"You heard?" Djaq asked.

Much nodded that little sideways nod. "Every word."

"_And I have the letter from Queen Eleanor meant for your king_," Djaq added in flawless French, waving the parchment in the air.

"What do you think King Richard will say about that, James?" Carter asked. "Your game is up. Will you come with us to the king's pavilion? Admit your guilt?"

James chuckled but his brow was furrowed in a frown. "And suffer the same fate as Locksley and his friends? I think not."

James suddenly lunged at Carter.

Carter deflected the unexpected strike, James' blade missing his throat by inches. He stumbled back over a chest lying beside him.

Djaq dodged the swordplay and stood nervously by the tent's entrance. She glanced outside to make sure no-one was alerted by the commotion within.

James spun around catching Much's ploy to draw his attention away from Carter. Their blades clashed and the hilts locked. James forced Much's dagger to the side, exposing his body. James swiftly jabbed his fist into Much's stomach, making Much's breath come out in a rush. Much staggered back a few steps and fell to the floor. His blade slid free from James' as he fell and James turned back to Carter.

Carter scrambled to his feet in time to meet James' second attack. Evading that thrust, Carter was forced backwards in the tight quarters of the tent. When James lunged for him again Carter feinted and seized James' wrist. James grabbed Carter's sword arm with his free hand and the two men grappled, both pressing for an advantage.

Their struggle caused them to swing round so Carter was now between Much and James, and James had his back to Djaq and the door - and escape.

Djaq checked outside the tent once more then looked for something within arm's reach that she could use to hit James but nothing nearby was of any use.

Much stood up and advanced towards the two wrestling men. James quickly glanced up at his approach but just as quickly dismissed him - there was no way for him to get past Carter.

Djaq gasped as Much shouted and launched himself towards Carter's back. Carter ducked, twisting down to his right in a move that looked smooth and practiced as Much's blade swung in from the left over his head.

James' face was flushed with anger which changed to shock as he spotted the arc of Much's dagger a second too late. It ripped his neck open and he collapsed, blood spurting like raindrops on the hot sand.

Much looked down at Carter who had sunk to one knee under him. He reached down with his right hand and helped Carter to his feet.

"Everyone all right?" Carter asked.

Djaq exchanged a nod with both men. "Fine."

"Carter and I will get the others," Much told Djaq. "You should stay here and rest."

Djaq scowled. "I'm pregnant, Much, not an invalid."

Carter eyed them both, a bemused expression on his face.

"How about that, Carter?" Much said.

The younger knight feigned little interest as dark memories of his own children's quickening returned. "I can see, Much."

"Well you have to do more than see!" Much insisted, tugging him closer. "Come feel...here."

Carter frowned. "We don't have time for this."

Djaq reached for him. He relented when she nodded gently and he placed his own hand next to Much's.

The first bump brought a timid smile to Carter's face. He pushed back the ache in his heart. "This child needs a father," he told his friends.

"He needs uncles, too!" Much grinned.

"You are right, Much!" Djaq agreed.

Carter cuffed Much's neck. "Let's go find them."


	64. Mirrors and Mirages

**Summary**: Takes place during AU 2x13. The heat starts to take its toll on the gang - one in particular...

**Characters/Pairings**: Will/Djaq, Robin/Marian, Legrand, Little John, Much/Carter  
**Rating**:PG-13  
**Genre**: Drama, Angst  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Four: Mirrors and Mirages****  
**by  
**WastingYourGum**

_..._

_Heat._

...

_Crushing, throbbing heat.__  
__  
_Will remembered being in the blacksmiths at Clun when he was younger, feeling the flames literally battering against his skin as he peered into the forge and his father warning them not even Hell burns that hot. He could feel the same burning sensation on his face as the heat rose from the sand all around them. He found it harder and harder to remember the leafy coolness of the forest...

_Heat that sears the inside of your mouth with every breath and seems to dry the sweat inside you before it's even reached your skin._

Legrand's entire body felt like it was burning up. He was incredibly light-headed and his eyes couldn't seem to focus any more. He was starting to feel an odd sense of detachment - as if this was a dream or all happening to somebody else.  
_  
__Arms like lead weights, legs not quite there._

John pulled against the ropes for the hundredth time but there was absolutely no strength and little feeling left in his arms. From the corner of his eye, he saw Legrand suddenly drop and hang from his arms, his knees folding under him. "Legrand!" John shouted but it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper. His own head dropped forward in resignation knowing he would probably be the next to collapse.

_Blinding light and a headache that feels like a metal band being tightened around your head.__  
_  
Robin looked to the horizon and swore he could see Locksley Manor drifting before his eyes. It was a bad sign. The desert heat caused visions called mirages, throwing the image of remote yet reachable places across the sand. When the mind saw things that were many thousands of miles away then the end was not far off...  
_  
__The burning, itching sensation of sand getting into already dry eyes. There's no point crying and you couldn't even if you wanted to._

Robin felt Marian's gentle sobbing at his back. "Marian, my love, save your tears. Please don't cry."

"She's not crying. She's laughing on the wrong side of her face."

Robin looked round as Carter, Much and Djaq suddenly appeared from the dunes behind them. Robin was convinced it was another illusion until he felt Much's strong arm around him and his knife cutting through his bonds. Much freed Marian as well, and she and Robin turned and held each other tightly. Robin's lips were so dry and swollen he could barely feel her kisses.

Much stepped back and regarded them awkwardly for a moment before remembering the others.

Carter helped Djaq release Will and handed him a water-skin.

Will hugged Djaq tightly then took a long drink. "Are you all right? What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"I am perfectly well, my love," Djaq replied. "He didn't touch me. Carter and Much arrived just in time - and we found proof that James is a traitor. _Was _a traitor."

Will kissed her forehead then rested his against it. "I told the others our news. I hope that's all right."

"Much and Carter know as well. It is fine."

Robin and Marian drew up beside them. "James? A traitor?" Robin asked.

Djaq nodded. "He wore the insignia of the Black Knights," she said, "and he was intercepting the queen's letters." She drew the letter they had kept from being destroyed from her clothes and waved it triumphantly.

"No wonder the king was so ready to believe Vaizey's lies," Robin said, shaking his head. "What am I thinking?" He suddenly broke into a huge smile. "Will, Djaq - Congratulations!" He and Marian hugged and kissed Will and Djaq in celebration.

Much had already moved on to release John.

John's arms fell around Much's shoulders as the ropes gave way. "I've never been so glad to see you, Much," John croaked as he hugged him. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"I'm sorry too, _Big Bear_." Much grinned up at his large friend.

"Where did you hear--"

"Djaq told me. Here." Much handed him a water-skin but was surprised when, rather than drinking, John staggered over to where Legrand was still hanging, his head slumped forward on his chest.

"Much, please, help me!" There was more than a hint of desperation in John's voice. It attracted the others attention and they came over.

Much swiftly cut Legrand's ropes as John supported his weight and gently lowered him to the ground. John cradled Legrand's head in his lap and leaned over him to provide what little shade he could, cursing the sun high over their heads.

Carter was suddenly reminded of the way he held Much during his last hours before the poison had shut down his body completely. It was an unwelcome memory.

The others gathered round as John gently tipped the water-skin to Legrand's lips, letting the liquid slowly trickle into his mouth. John tried to loosen Legrand's chain mail as he watched for any sign of life. The metal was stinging hot to the touch, and John could see burn marks around Legrand's throat and wrists where his under-shirt had not protected him.

"John, you need to take a drink yourself," Much gently reminded him. He looked around at their friends.

Robin had his arm protectively around Marian. She had turned to face into his chest with her head resting on his shoulder as he softly stroked her hair.

Will stood directly behind Djaq, his strong arms encircling her, their heads almost touching.

Almost without thinking, Much reached for Carter's hand, wanting to also feel the comforting touch of his lover as they all looked down anxiously at John gently patting Legrand's cheek and calling his name.

Carter felt Much's hand brush against his and gently took it, briefly meeting his eyes as he did so, then pulling him towards him and placing his arm around Much's shoulders. He squeezed him tightly and whispered in his ear, "It looks like _all _your friends have found someone to care for."

Much turned to him with that wide-eyed look of surprise Carter loved so much, then he stared at Legrand and John in understanding. Much was simultaneously glad John had someone and terrified that he might now lose him. John had lost more than enough already. Much slipped his arm around Carter's waist, hugging him tightly as worry clouded his face.

Djaq moved to help John with Legrand but Will held her back with a small shake of his head. There was nothing more she could do that John was not already doing, and Will was unwilling to let her go from his arms.

Robin saw the way Much's hand sought Carter's. He looked from them to the large man kneeling at his feet. The care with which John was cradling Legrand in his arms was a perfect mirror image of how Will was holding Djaq, how he was holding Marian and, he noted, how Carter was now holding Much. Robin wondered just how close Legrand and John had become - clearly much closer than he'd anticipated.

Carter followed Robin's eyes from him and Much, down to Legrand and John and back up again. Robin gave him a questioning look. Carter shrugged and smiled and was relieved when Robin grinned back at him and kissed the top of Marian's head. Their brief smiles faded as they looked down at the knight still lying unmoving in John's arms.

"Carter, take your cloak off. We can hold it above Legrand to give him some shade," Djaq said.

Carter hastily loosened the ties round his neck and he and Robin each took a corner of the bottom edge of the long cloak. Will held the neck and they shuffled around trying to position the small patch of shade over John and Legrand as much as possible.

John looked up surprised and then grateful as the shadow of the cloak fell across him. He quickly turned his attention back to Legrand. Legrand's lips were cracked and split and the redness of his face set his blond hair off in brilliant contrast. John slowly fed him another trickle of water but still there was no reaction from his friend.

John found himself strangely glad he was so thirsty that tears were an impossibility. He could feel a horrible tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat. He glanced around and noticed that the three couples at each corner of the cloak were softly talking to each other above his head and, for the moment, not looking down. He pulled Legrand's body up and pressed his own dry lips to Legrand's burning forehead. "Please, don't die," he softly whispered as he lowered him again. "I... I..."

Legrand's eyes slowly fluttered open and John gasped with relief, as did the others once they heard him. Their faces suddenly appeared around and under the edge of the makeshift canopy.

"You look worried, John," Legrand rasped.

"I thought I'd have to go back to doing the cooking," John answered with a smile.

"God forbid!" Legrand laughed, the dryness in his throat turning it into coughing. John gently helped him to take another drink.

"We need to find better shade and help Legrand out of his armour." Djaq's sensible voice stirred them all from the moment. Carter and Much rushed forward to help lift and support Legrand as John finally took a long drink of his own.

"Looks like the desert decided!" Much said happily.

"No, my friend, you decided and we are all in your debt," Robin said sincerely as he helped Djaq give out their weapons. "And now we have a king to save..."


	65. Saving England

**Summary**: Takes place during AU 2x13. **The "season finale". **The gang and Marian have been rescued from the desert by Much, Carter and Djaq. Allan is desperate to escape Vaizey's clutches and prove his loyalty to his old friends. Everything comes to a head when the gang face down Vaizey and Gisborne in the deserted village in a fight for their lives and King Richard's. Who will live and who will die? Oh right... this is _Denial_... the endings are better here!

**Characters/Pairings**: Allan, Will/Djaq, Robin/Marian, Legrand, Little John, Much/Carter, King Richard, Vaizey, Guy  
**Rating**:PG-13  
**Genre**: Drama, Angst  
**Disclaimer**: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Five: Saving England****  
**by  
**DarkenTwisted**, **WastingYourGum**, **R****obinFanatic**, **Perteltote** and **JAGNikJen**

Allan trailed through Acre after man was in a bloody hurry for some reason and kept glancing back at him - just often enough that it was impossible for him to slip away unseen. As they pulled up in front of their lodging, Vaizey slid off his horse and threw the reins at Allan and snapped, "Here you, boy, take care of that!"

As Vaizey rushed into the house, Allan slowly tied the horses off as he considered his options. He could leave now...no one would see him...or maybe he should try to learn what Vaizey was up to first. The gang wouldn't have much time out there in the sun...but if he didn't know the score it might not matter whether he got there in time or not.

Following on up the stairs, he could feel himself growing light-headed from the heat trapped under the tile roof. As he reached the top, Allan heard Vaizey berating someone. Nervously, he realized that it was coming from the room where Marian had been chained and where he and Marian had sat while Guy... He pushed open the door and reluctantly entered. He glanced around just in time to see Guy heave himself off the low bed and wobble to his feet.

"Allan..." Guy mumbled, "...what are you doing here? I thought that you-"

Vaizey hurled a bundle of black leather at his midsection.

Allan watched as the man nearly collapsed back to the bed at the impact. He felt a momentary urge to help as Vaizey shouted, "Get your clothes on, you useless idiot! I need you with me, NOW!"

But he just stood and watched as Guy slowly fumbled with the heavy clothes. Guy's sweat-slicked hair and pale skin already spoke of a fever, and it made Allan sweat just to look at all that black leather. Christ! He even had the overcoat there. You would never catch Allan wearing anything like _that_ in a hell-hole like this.

Guy jumped as Vaizey screamed again, "You will be ready! I don't care how you feel! I am counting on _you_ if the imposter fails! The king will die today or you will pay!"

Allan flinched and then tried to look nonchalant as Vaizey turned to glare at him before lowering his voice and hissing what sounded like detailed instructions into Guy's ear.

So that's what this was all about. The assassination attempt must be planned for this afternoon. Well then, all he had to do was go untie the gang and warn Robin there was some sort of imposter. He glanced up, ready to make an excuse and get the hell out of there, but paused as he glimpsed Guy's skin in the instant before he pulled his shirt over his head. He looked so soft and white out of the leather, and the way he stretched his damp head to catch Vaizey's whispers reminded Allan of a new-hatched chick. Quickly, he banished the thoughts - the man might be many things, but defenceless certainly wasn't one of them. Guy would just have to handle the sheriff on his own. He had, after all, coped with Vaizey alone for years before Allan came along.

"I'll...uh...go saddle the horses," he said and slipped out of the room, hoping that no one would remember that the horses were saddled already.

~~~O~~~

Although he had regained consciousness, Legrand was still dazed with heat exhaustion. The only scrap of shade for miles around was a nearby abandoned town. Much and Carter gave directions to it and then headed off with Robin and Marian to intercept the king. John and Will slowly half-carried, half-dragged Legrand towards it. Djaq followed behind them carrying several of the water-skins Much and Carter had brought, along with John's staff and Legrand's sword. Will had already reclaimed his axes.

John and Will staggered into the first house they could find that still had most of its roof intact and laid Legrand down in the darkest corner. John sat down heavily, still feeling fairly weak himself.

Djaq put the fullest water-skin down by his hand. "There's a well. I'll get some more water. You should take his armour and his boots off," she suggested, gesturing to Legrand.

John nodded and rolled his semi-responsive friend up into a sitting position and then leaned him across his shoulder so he could haul up the long chain-mail from under him. "Give me a hand here, Will," he grunted.

Will took hold of the sleeves of Legrand's mail shirt and tunic and tugged them upwards. Legrand slowly slid out of the armour and fell back towards the ground, now clad only in his leggings and boots.

John swore under his breath as he only just caught Legrand's head before it hit the floor. "Careful!" he spat. He bundled up the tunic and laid it under Legrand's head as a makeshift pillow.

Will set aside the mail shirt and under shirt. "Sorry. I'll go help Djaq with the water, shall I?" Will asked.

John nodded. "And keep an eye out in case Allan and the sheriff come back."

Will left, leaving the two larger men alone together.

John tugged off Legrand's boots and laid them beside his armour. He coughed a little and reached for the water-skin, hoping Djaq and Will would hurry back.

"Do my feet smell that bad?" Legrand rasped, without opening his eyes.

"Terrible," John replied. "Almost as bad as that cheese you made me try in Marseilles."

Legrand smiled weakly. "Palate-less peasant."

John gave a small chuckle. "How do you feel?" he asked gently.

"Hot. Light-headed -but I'll be fine in a minute or two." Legrand's voice was still faint and he coughed as he finished speaking.

"Here." John knelt beside him and lifted his head so he could drink some more water.

"_Merci._"

John placed his hand on Legrand's chest. It was still very hot. A long shiver ran through Legrand's body and John took his hand away in concern. "Are you getting chills?"

"Just when you touch me..." Legrand mumbled. His head rolled back as he passed out again.

John shook his head, but couldn't stop the small smile creasing his face. _Idiot...__  
__  
_"How is he?" Djaq asked, coming into the room, followed closely by Will.

John turned. "He's fainted again but I think he's getting better."

Will looked from Legrand to Djaq. "You should stay here with him while John and I go catch up with the others," he said. "We can come back for you both later." Will tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible but he could tell from the wry smile Djaq gave him that she saw right through him.

"You mean I should stay out of the way of any possible fighting because of the baby," she said.

"Yes." Will put down the water he was carrying and took her in his arms. "I thought I'd lost you - lost you _both _- once already today. Please don't make me worry about you again - at least until tomorrow?"

"I _could _say the same thing..." Djaq said softly.

"I'll stay if you want me to. Just say the word."

"No, Robin will need you both. I will stay here and look after Legrand. You should go."

John stood up slowly, looking very closely at his boots as Djaq and Will kissed. Will walked outside without looking back, but John turned just before following him. "I'll look after him, Djaq," he promised her. "I know how much he means to you."

Djaq looked down at Legrand then back up at John. "I will do the same, John," she said with a smile.

John frowned and started to speak but Will called him from outside. He picked up his staff and left, leaving Djaq still grinning to herself as she sat beside Legrand and reached for the nearest water-skin...

~~~O~~~

As soon as Allan had stepped outside, the heat struck him again, even worse than before. He shrugged his black vest off and arranged it haphazardly over his head, pulling it low to shade his eyes - he was sure he looked a prize idiot, but it was that or fall over from the heat. These Saracens were an odd lot but they did have the whole head-covering thing right. He didn't even want to think about the gang - and Maz - stranded out there, bare to the sun.

Allan hurried back towards the desert and thought over what he would say instead. He had to get this right. Maz would back him up, but he had to convince the others.

His well-practiced arguments were all for naught, however. He found nothing but empty poles when he arrived. Someone else had rescued them first! Much? He suppressed a moment of annoyance and jealousy. He should be glad they were out of the sun. Saving their arses would have given him a good in, but he would find another way...

~~~O~~~

Will and John hurried out of the house. They darted up the street and back toward the dilapidated village gate.

Will paused, anxiously peering around one corner. "I hear something."

John nodded, listening. "Horses. C'mon," he whispered.

They found refuge, ducking into an alleyway painted with shadows just as two Saracens raced by. The enemy soldiers disappeared out of sight as they rounded a corner at the far end of the street. Will was about to emerge from their hiding place when Vaizey and Gisborne came into view. Galloping on horseback, the two black knights were headed directly toward the house where Legrand was in Djaq's care.

Will's heart sank. "We have to go back."

"No - wait," John said, grabbing Will's arm. "Look. It's all right. They've moved past the house."

"If Vaizey and Gisborne are here..." Will peered back toward the gate.

"Then Robin and the others shouldn't be far behind," John added.

As if on cue, Carter and King Richard appeared.

John pointed straight ahead. "Let's find a way a way to put the sheriff between us and the others," he half-whispered.

Will nodded. The Black Knights would be surrounded. He and John headed up the street at a fast trot.

~~~O~~~

Much saw Carter and the king disappear into a side street off the courtyard of the deserted village. _Typical, both of them,_ Much thought, _charging ahead without more protection._ They'd followed the sheriff and Gisborne. Vaizey's other assassins had been ahead of them all. There was no telling where they might already be positioned.

Without warning, Much found himself falling from his horse. He smacked the desert sands hard, twisting awkwardly to avoid being crushed as the animal went down, hit by an arrow from some unseen assassin. He pressed himself into a pile of sandbags to dodge more arrows as Marian and Robin dismounted and scooted in beside him.

"Are you all right?" Robin asked him.

"Yeah." Much wondered if he shouldn't be asking Robin that after his encounter with the Saracen impersonating Saladin. But there had been little time for talk since the gang - and Marian - had been rescued from the desert.

Robin brushed his hand along Marian's cheek. "Marian?"

"I'm fine," she replied.

Robin eyed the courtyard. "Where's the king?"

"He went after the sheriff," Much said.

"This is a trap," Robin said.

Marian noticed that the enemy fire had stopped. Their attacker had bigger fish to fry – he'd turned his attention to King Richard. While Robin and Much plotted, she slipped away.

"We need to get out of here." Robin realized Marian had already taken it upon herself to steal away. He spotted the king and then his line of sight followed up to the roof above him where a Saracen assassin might lie in wait. Robin hustled down the street looking for a way to get to the rooftop.

As Robin found a way up and started to make his way Much hung back, tailing Robin just in time to see a Saracen appear from nowhere and train a dagger on his friend. "Oh no you don't!" Much said as he snuck up on a higher part of the roof behind the would-be assassin. His sword reacted before he could think and the perfect arc of his swing took the traitor's head.

Robin turned and grinned at his friend. For a moment it was like old times.

Much nodded, sheathed his sword, and climbed down to trail after the king and Carter. Robin was fine for now, and Much turned his attention to his lover.

~~~O~~~

Robin scrambled across the rooftop, the high ground giving him an advantage that soldiers coveted. Skirting the edge of the building, he spotted Carter on foot tearing out from behind a pillar. Hoofbeats caught his ear and a moment later the king rounded the corner ahead. Richard spurred his horse forward, his sword flashing.

Robin nocked an arrow in his bow, motioning to Richard that the way was clear. But Richard reined in his horse, spotting movement on the rooftop above Robin's head.

The king's reluctance to advance baffled Robin for barely the blink of an eye. Richard hurled his sword. The weapon skimmed dangerously close to Robin's head but he ducked, feeling a blast of air. Behind him the Saracen screamed, blood seeping from his tunic where the sword gutted him.

Richard raised his fist in victory. Robin nodded as the king galloped past him down the street. Another Saracen stepped out from a doorway, his crossbow sighted on the king. He lifted it to fire but Robin spotted him and loosed his arrow first, forcing the attacker to recede into the shadows of an alleyway.

Robin jumped from the roof. He tore after the assassin. An _oomph!_ and the distinct sound of a sword meeting wood made him freeze. A moment later the Saracen stumbled out of the alley. Little John emerged from the shadows, his staff striking blow after blow. John twisted to one side of the entrance as Will shot out behind him, his axe catching the Saracen's blade in a downward arc. The Saracen was as tall as Will but stronger and used to fighting in the desert heat. He pressed Will's axe away and lifted his weapon to strike again. Will stumbled in the soft sands but John's staff intercepted the swing that would have sent him to his Maker.

Robin unsheathed his sword and charged forward. The Saracen snaked away from John to meet Robin with a powerful thrust. Robin parried back. The Saracen paused, the tip of his blade teasing Robin's.

~~~O~~~

Vaizey pulled his horse up abruptly and studied their backtrail; rising dust clearly marked their progress through the city and pursuing hoofbeats echoed off of the amber walls. He glanced around the empty square, noting several small side-streets paralleling the way they had come.

"Off the horse, Gisborne," he hissed. "It's time to go lion hunting."

They stashed the horses just off the square and then Vaizey hurriedly stationed Gisborne nearby, in a niche with a clear view over the square.

"You are the fail-safe Gisborne. I am trusting you with this, do _not _fail me. If the king makes it this far, you will take care of him, understood?"

Vaizey watched, satisfied, as the man nodded grimly and set himself to wait. Then, taking his bow, Vaizey ran back down one of the side streets, seeking the perfect spot for a...ah, yes, just here, the way was clear, the line was perfect...

He sat, chuckling to himself...yes, lions were undoubtedly brave, but that very courage made them foolhardy, and no one knew better than Vaizey how to take advantage of fools. He had always known that the best way to defeat a lion was to make it believe that _it_ was the one hunting _you_. There! The hoof-beats were louder now and he nocked the arrow, drew the fletches back to his ear, waited for the moment...and the arrow was away! The bolt buried itself deep in the shoulder of the Lionheart. It was not a fatal shot, but it would be easy enough for Gisborne to finish the job.

He huddled back into his place of concealment, waiting for the others who were sure to follow.

~~~O~~~

A painful wail ripped through the village. Robin recognized the voice but stood his ground against the Saracen.

"Your king is done, Robin Hood. And so are you." The Saracen faced Robin, John, and Will and laughed, showing no sign of fear.

Robin frowned, looked at his friends, then met the Saracen's eyes. The man was outnumbered three to one and cornered in the street with no chance for escape. And what of their king - hurt, maybe dying? Vaizey and Gisborne were still out there.

"Not at your hand," Robin replied.

"Right!" John exclaimed. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"John, Will," Robin said, "find something to tie this one up."

The Saracen glared at Robin then pounced, his weapon pressed toward the outlaw's heart. Will knocked the blade away with a swing of his axe and Robin lunged forward, his sword tearing into the man's chest. The Saracen collapsed to the ground, his bulging eyes meeting Robin's before he took his last breath.

Robin nodded to his men. "Let's find the king."

A scream suddenly pierced the hot desert air. Robin's heart stopped. "Marian!"

~~~O~~~

Much turned into one deserted side street, paused and listened. A horse whinnied. He stepped forward cautiously. An arrow whined and the hoofbeats of a horse sounded just around the corner.

Carter suddenly appeared at a cross street ahead of him. He spotted Much, held a finger to his lips, and pointed. Much recognized the signal from countless encounters with the Turk in situations just like this.

Both men crept up the street until a voice roaring in pain halted their advance. The shout echoed through the village. Carter's expression told Much what he already knew. The king was in trouble.

Carter turned back the way he'd come. Much took off in a run to follow him.

Carter shot down the street and through a passageway. He hadn't noticed Vaizey skulking behind a pillar and brandishing a sword.

"Bye-bye, blondie," Vaizey snarled, bringing the hilt of his sword down, catching the knight in a sideways blow.

Carter stumbled, then scrambled backwards as Vaizey beat after him. Sword raised, the sheriff prepared to deliver a deathblow when suddenly, cold steel met his throat.

"Not so fast," Much hissed. "He's with me."

Carter shook his head and stood up, recovering his sword.

"Are you all right?" Much cautiously asked, glancing quickly sideways between the two men.

"Now that you're here." Carter smiled, rubbing his bruised temple.

"Ahh, Mulch is it? Hood's former boy toy." Vaizey glanced at the knight in front of him. "I heard you had upgraded masters." He spun around as he spoke and engaged the former servant. "You make such a fetching couple, too."

"Carter is not my master," Much spat wide-eyed as steel struck steel.

Vaizey turned to the other blond and smiled evilly, engaging Carter's sword as well. "Isn't that what the wife always says?" He continued trading thrusts with the two knights until a scream from the courtyard caused all three men to pause. Seeing his chance to escape, Vaizey ran.

"Marian!" Much exchanged a troubled glance with Carter. All thoughts of chasing the sheriff were forgotten. They turned and rushed toward the sound.

~~~O~~~

Djaq tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her tunic and wet it with some of the water. She laid it across Legrand's forehead to try and help his temperature come back down.

Once she'd done that, she inspected the scars from the arrows and knife attack that had so nearly killed him all those months ago. They had healed well and she allowed herself a small smug smile of self-appreciation as she ran her fingers gently over the longest scar high up in his stomach.

"Better not let your husband catch us. He looks the jealous type." Legrand had not moved or opened his eyes but he was grinning broadly.

"Surely it is _I_ who should be more worried that you will tempt _him _from _me_?" Djaq replied, poking him softly in the ribs.

"He _is _a handsome man..." Legrand said thoughtfully.

Djaq poked again, slightly more forcefully.

"Ow! All right - you can keep him." Legrand laughed. "He's too skinny for my tastes anyway." His eyes slowly opened and he looked around the deserted house. "Where are the others?"

"John and Will have gone to help the others intercept the sheriff and his assassins."

"I should...I should..." Legrand struggled to try and sit up.

Djaq firmly pushed him back down. "You should lie there for a few more minutes."

Legrand glared at her, but after so long under her care he had become accustomed to following her orders. He was about to speak when the sound of horses galloping towards them made them both look towards the door.

Djaq scrambled to her feet and hurried to the opening. She peered out cautiously in time to see two of the sheriff's men come thundering past, followed by Gisborne and the sheriff himself.

"The sheriff," she turned and whispered at Legrand.

His eyes widened in alarm. "John? Will?"

Djaq looked out again. "I don't see them," she said anxiously. "But they would have heard the sheriff approaching and hidden themselves. I only hope Robin and the others are not far behind." She scanned the deserted streets. "The sheriff did not look pleased - which can only be a good sign for your king." She turned back to face into the house again.

Legrand had somehow pulled on his boots and gotten to his feet and was now standing, albeit somewhat unsteadily. He leaned over and picked up his tunic.

"What are you doing?" she said, disapprovingly.

Legrand pulled the tunic on over his head. "He needs me," he replied. "Where is my staff?"

"We could not carry both your staff and John's. Carter brought your sword." Djaq pointed to it lying by the wall.

Legrand picked it up and started buckling it around his waist.

"Legrand, you cannot go out there like this - and with no armour on! Everyone out there is already doing their best to protect Richard. He could ask for no finer bodyguard."

Legrand looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Richard? Yes - Richard. I'm the King's Guard. I have to..." he staggered slightly and put one hand out against the wall to steady himself.

Djaq walked over to him. "Legrand, please. I promised I would look after you." She frowned up at him then raised her fists. "Are you going to make me fight you? Because I know exactly where to hit..."

Legrand looked down at her small determined face and burst out laughing. "God help that poor husband of yours." He gestured to the water skins. "Hand me some water. I promise you I am feeling much better."

She gave him some of the water, and after taking a long drink, he looked much more steady on his feet than he had only moments previously. Shouts from outside and a sudden ring of steel - the noise of swords clashing - made his head snap up. He handed the water back to Djaq and headed for the door.

"So you are leaving me here alone to defend myself?" she asked him.

Legrand stopped in the doorway. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned round to face her. He closed his eyes and scowled. "Damn you, woman. We both know you are more than capable of that."

"And we both know that your knight's code sees me as no more than a helpless female that you are bound to protect," she said primly.

Legrand looked over his shoulder at the open door and then back at Djaq. He slowly nodded. "I cannot refuse a request for protection from a pregnant woman - even a Saracen woman - no matter how _aggravating _she may be," he growled.

Djaq smiled triumphantly. She was about to invite him to take his sword off and sit down again when a piercing scream came from outside. Djaq instantly knew who it had been - there was no other it _could _have been. "_Marian._"

She tore past Legrand and out into the street. He looked in sudden bewilderment after her then quickly drew his sword and followed.

~~~O~~~

The ride through the desert heat was stifling as Allan reached the small village. _Well if I can't save 'em, at least I can warn 'em_, he thought as he slid off the steed and sidled against the mudbrick wall. It was quiet, too quiet, and he had been in this predicament with the gang too many times not to know that the fight had already started. He wanted to warn Robin, but he didn't feel like being sheesh-kabobbed for the good deed either. He had to find Will. Will hated him but he would never hurt him.

He watched Vaizey silently fire an arrow at the king and his heart leapt. It was too late to do anything but watch as the monarch fell. What happened next was straight out of his nightmares. Marian's gleaming white tunic flashed as she ran screaming toward Richard. Guy's dark figure ran toward her in stark contrast. He wished to wake up, but the heat and stifling air around him told him there would be no waking. He could picture what might happen next and it made his racing heart stop. Any hope he had for the future would fall with _her_.

~~~O~~~

Marian screamed as she saw the king collapse to the ground. In agonizing slow motion she ran to do the first thing she could think. She shielded the injured man with her own flesh as the brooding ambassador of darkness came to claim his prize.

The king lay in a heap moaning and holding his wound as Marian stared incredulously at the man she once cared for so deeply, but now loathed. "You think I'm going to let you kill England?"

"Get out of the way, Marian, and let me finish this so we can have our life together."

Marian was practically on top of Richard. "You think I'm going to go with you?" she snorted. "You disgust me! First my father, then Allan; you gave them up to that madman. How could you do such things? You helped Vaizey torture my father until the day he died. How could you do that to him? And now you are trying to kill our king!" Marian nodded defiantly. "You are so blind, Guy! You honestly think I'll let you and the sheriff carry out your plan and run away with you?" She laughed coldly. "You fool. It's too late. I love Robin Hood."

Confusion crossed Guy's face, but was quickly replaced by heartbreak. "You don't mean that," Guy snarled as his world crumbled.

Marian stared at her attacker as a sudden rush of realization hit her. She and Robin had said their vows. They'd married. Finally. In the desert, under the glaring sun, in front of God and their friends. Happiness filled her and she smiled, a wide radiant smile. She refocused on Guy and said, "I am already married... I am married to Robin Ho-"

Before she could finish, Guy's face contorted in rage and as the maiden screamed again, he swung hard landing a crushing blow. His sword pommel fell hard against her temple and she crumpled where she stood. Scarlet pooled from the wound as her blood mixed with the hot sand.

"_Marian_!" Allan shouted, as he bolted from his hidden spot. He ran toward the fallen noblewoman and the monarch and shielded them both with his body. "Gis-what have you done?"

The black knight seemed mesmerized by his former fiancée bleeding in the sand in front of him. "She got in my way." He spoke slowly as if waking from a dream. Pressing a hand to his head he mumbled, "She told me she was already married to Hood...all this time...she lied to me." Then he dropped his hand and his cold blue eyes focused on Allan. "It's not too late. I still have you! We can still do this! Move her! Let me finish him!" He levelled the sword at his servant.

The former outlaw looked up at his master as he stood in front of Marian. He was numbed by shock, barely hearing Gisborne's barked commands. "You killed her...the one person I had left who thought I was good...you killed her! She cared for me, had my back." Allan leaned over Marian and placed his hand under her head. "Marian! Marian!" He drew it away covered in blood. "Aww, Gis, oh God, what have you done?" He caressed her cheek as tears mixed with the dust on his face. Allan suddenly glared at Guy. "After all she did for you. She loved _you_ and look what you did to 'er, Gis!"

Guy stared at the only man he had come close to caring for, holding the lifeless body of the woman he once adored, and could feel nothing. "She never loved me. She loved Hood."

"She wouldn't leave you with Vaizey, she thought she could save you, Gis, and I thought so, too." Allan's jaw clenched. He stood and reached for his weapon. "Marian was right, I can't let you kill the king, Gis!" Allan swallowed hard as he drew his sword. His blue eyes gazed wide at the impossible situation he found himself in. "Not bein' funny, but in order to get to 'im, you'll have to go through me first."

Guy's face crinkled in confusion again as he studied his servant. He growled, "Think about what are you doing, Allan."

"As you always told me, Gis, I never think. I guess I was never any good at doin' that."

"Have it your way then." Guy raised his blade against that of his servant. Allan was distracted by the voices of his former friends as he thrust back. Taking the advantage, Gisborne's broadsword penetrated Allan's torso like a knife through jelly. Blood shot out of Allan's mouth. He looked at his tormentor in disbelief.

Gisborne gasped in realization of what he had done. "_Allan...!_"

"Gisborne! Come on!" Vaizey spat as he rode up behind the black knight.

"No, not without Marian!" Gisborne looked down at the pale still body of the woman he loved and then at his injured servant. "I can't...Allan...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Aww, how sweet." The sheriff's face quickly changed from mock sympathy to hostility. "Leave the boy, claim your dead leper and let's move on."

Robin burst from between the buildings. "No..._Marian!_" he screamed as he ran across the courtyard.

Allan heard the shouting as he slid to his knees. Everything around him blurred for a moment, the sun so bright, his pain so great...but Marian...he caught a glimpse of Marian. Her eyes fluttered briefly. There was movement around him...and the shouting...words he could not understand...he couldn't focus but saw Marian being lifted from the ground. Allan closed his own eyes knowing she was all right.

Carter and Much skidded to a halt just behind Robin. The outlaw leader stood dumbfounded, watching as Gisborne threw his wife's seemingly lifeless body over his horse and rode away. Will and John stopped short at the scene before them. Legrand lurched into the courtyard, as well, with Djaq keeping pace beside him.

"Mon dieu," Legrand exclaimed softly as Carter and Much hurried to Richard's side.

Djaq's gaze careened around the courtyard. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Will but she choked on it when she saw Allan. "Allan!" Djaq ran over to the dying man. The sword that impaled him held him upright on his knees in the sand. Will and John helped her gently lay the man down on his side.

"Not bein' funny, but...ugh...what took you guys so long to get here?" Allan deliriously grabbed the hilt of the sword and made to pull out the offending weapon. John's hand held Allan's forcefully back.

"Allan, stop, please." Djaq looked up at Will. She shook her head and then looked down at her friend. "If you pull it out..."  
Realization showed in the faces of the people around him. John turned away, a fleeting moment of guilt pawing at him as he watched Legrand move toward the king.

Allan looked at Djaq. "I'm going to die, ain't I?" He looked at each member of the gang, then again, expectantly, at Djaq. "You can patch me up, can't ya?"

"I'm sorry, Allan." The Saracen buried her head in her lover's shoulder to hide her tears.

Allan's and Will's eyes connected. "Will...I'm sorry...for what I did. You know I di'n't mean it."

Will grasped his friend's hand. "I forgive you for that." He forced himself to smile, easing the conscience of the dying man as well as his own. "I still have to kick your arse for it, though."

Allan smiled and tried to laugh, but coughed as blood foamed from his lips. "Not bein' funny, but I woulda looked forward to that." He saw Much and Carter helping the king stand up but he focused on the brooding man in front of him. "Robin."

The outlaw leader held his grief and leaned over the fallen man who was, once again, one of his own. "Be still, my friend." He placed his hand on Allan's shoulder.

"I never meant to betray you. Marian...I tried to look after her."

"That you did and I'm grateful." Robin stared past Allan toward the gate where Gisborne had disappeared with Marian's body. "Now, just shush," he said as Much came up beside him. Carter and Legrand were a few paces behind and helping the king.

"No...let me finish. I missed you...all of you. I want to be in the gang again." Allan looked at the leader. "Please let me come back, Robin. I...I don't want to die alone."

Djaq nodded at Robin as she took off the extra set she had carried for so many months. The people around them looked on as Robin placed the wooden tags around the dying man's neck. "You saved the king. You've earned these, my friend."

Allan examined the solemn faces of his friends. "I'm glad you let me be in the gang again... Thanks, mates, all of you." He smiled through blood stained lips as the faces of his friends softened and the light over their shoulders claimed his vision, then his eyes rolled back and his head lolled to the side.

"Is he...?" Much asked.

Djaq shook her head as she felt Allan's pulse. "It won't be long."

"He was a brave man," Carter said.

_"Un héros,"_ Legrand added.

"Yes, he was a hero," Richard rasped painfully as he staggered over to the others. "He saved England."

The gang stood around their fallen comrade in solemn solidarity and waited for his life to ebb away...

~~~O~~~

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

~~~O~~~

**_A note from the authors:_**_  
_We will be on hiatus for the next few weeks but watch for _Denial II,_ coming soon!

_Denial II_ will take place in the months set immediately after this 2x13 finale but prior to 3x01. The gang, accompanied by Much & Carter, journey toward Poitiers, Gisborne and Vaizey head back to England, Djaq and Will welcome a new life and Marian and Allan... well remember... no one dies in _Denial_!


	66. Coming Soon: Denial II

**Coming Very Soon... Denial II****  
****  
**An ongoing multi-chapter round robin AU fic with stories that will begin at the end of episode 2x13, _We Are Robin Hood_, and end just as series 3 opens.

Give _Denial II_ a try... The endings _will _be better here!

Here's a sneak preview...

~~~O~~~

If you've read _Denial_, you know that as we open _Denial II_, Gisborne and Vaizey have fled with Marian's body, Robin and the rest of the gang think Marian is dead and Allan is lying in the town square breathing his last...

_Ch. 1 Saving Allan _- _  
_The gang watch Allan's life slip away. Can Djaq save him?

_Ch. 2 Men of Letters__  
__  
__Ch. 3 Le Corpse__  
__  
__Ch. 4 Last Dance with Marian__  
_  
And many more to come... See you there?


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